A New Kind of Curse
by Miravale
Summary: The Entity's commands brushed up within Michael's mind. The command that he not entwine the girl's spirit with his own. But he did not care. Why would he allow the Entity to claim his creation as its own? No, no, no. This girl was his. All his. The Entity could do nothing to stop that. MichaelMyersxOC. Immediate lemon more lemon later. Thanks for reading! LMK what you think :)
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: THIS STORY GAINS SERIOUSNESS AFTER CHAPTER 1. When I first wrote this fanfiction, I didn't know much about Myers so he seems a little OOC here. Please forgive that! I believe this story is much better after the first chapter because I began to take it on as a serious story instead of just a oneshot. Please let me know how you feel about my story and I'm always up for healthy criticism! And thank you so much for reading. **

Amidst the haunted darkness of Lampkin Lane, a girl crunched along quietly in the dry grass and dirt. She was sneaking about in another day of being trapped in this nightmare. She couldn't remember how she got there; all she knew was that surviving these trials granted her a longer chance to rest in 'purgatory', as she called it, which was a dark and quiet place that didn't require her to constantly be on her toes.

And so, she spent every day of this life repairing generators, searching chests, and attempting to escape from various spine-chilling monsters and murderers.

The girl's eyes cast about quickly and she was surprised by a metal trap door buried in the dirt that was flipped open. Trails of inky black mist swirled out of it. As much as she wished to jump through it and escape, her senses warned her that she should take this chance, and look around for something useful to take with her.

 _Damn me for still having my brain_ , she cursed herself, as she turned away from the trap door and entered the backyard of a rotting green home. She looked around the yard for a chest, but the only thing there was a rusty, bloodied hook and a broken down tricycle.

The girl walked up the porch steps and entered the decrepit home. The sound of her own footsteps along the wooden floor raked at her ears, and she flinched; but nothing could be done of it, and she continued up the stairs.

When she reached the upstairs floor, her heart fell to her stomach as a rather eerie sound erupted from one of the bedrooms. She froze on the spot with her ears pricked.

It almost sounded like a faint snore.

Ideas flitted around the girl's mind as the sound occurred again, and it was without a doubt, a snore.

Curiosity overcame her. She had to at least see what was creating that noise before she left the trial. She took care to creep quietly along the floor to the room at her right, and cautiously peered around the doorframe to see what was inside.

Another quiet snore emanated from the room, and the girl's hand flew to her mouth to stifle a surprised gasp.

Laying down on the bed, knife in hand, was the infamous Michael Myers; her least favorite killer.

 _That's why there's no heartbeat_ , she thought to herself as she continued to peer at him nervously from the hallway.

She stared, aghast as his chest rose and fell. She was utterly astonished and taken aback by the notion that this man even _could_ sleep. She also didn't understand why he'd decided to take a nap now; didn't he know that she was still there, waiting to be stabbed?

 _I guess it could be a trap..._

That seemed rather outrageous though... why would Michael Myers need to use himself as a trap? The girl shook her head and took a breath. Curiosity was getting the best of her, and what did she have to lose? At this point, being stabbed a few times and getting thrown on a hook was just a normal day for her... she might as well try to see what's going on here.

It was impossible to completely mask the sound of her footsteps, so she began by removing her shoes and cautiously tip toeing into the bedroom, her socks masking any noise made by her feet. Every fiber of her being was begging her to turn around and run. It was unimaginably uncomfortable being in the same room as him, and she had to force herself to keep moving closer and closer. But she was also excited, because it felt good to be doing something out of the ordinary; something other than running for her life.

She eyed the knife wrapped gently beneath the stalker's sleepy fingers. It was coated with a fresh layer of her late teammates' blood, the sight of which caused her to shiver. Disturbed, she still crept closer to the bed. She could hear his breaths now, in sync with the movement of his chest. She studied his sleeping figure with a curious gaze, intrigued.

The man she'd been murdered by hundreds, if not thousands of times laid before her, completely vulnerable and unaware of her presence. The girl's wide eyes flitted across his large, masculine figure, and her heart fluttered innocently as she wondered what he looked like underneath that suit.

Without much thought, the girl leaned in dangerously close to the stalker's face, and held her breath as she peered into the eye holes of his mask.

Her skin was crawling.

But she had nothing to lose, and everything to gain...

The girl's fingers travelled silently to the zipper of the killer's boiler suit, tugging it down gently. It began to catch a few times at the neck of the suit, and she attempted to quietly wrestle it down. After a few attempts of jiggling it around as gently as possible, the zipper gave way with a quiet _zrrrrrrrrrrrp_.

Her breath caught in her throat as her eyes fell upon Myers' toned body, silhouetted underneath a surprisingly clean white T-shirt. She listened carefully to his breathing for a moment, as he let out a gentle snore every now and then. Her hands shook as she studied his body, wide-eyed, with her fingers still gripped lightly on the zipper of his suit.

The stalker's breath hitched on a rather noisy snore, and she jumped, startled. The killer didn't move or stir though, and she stayed in her spot.

Her eyes cast downward to his tummy, and the zipper that remained somewhere just beneath his belly button. A dark thought entered her mind as she looked at his sculpted form underneath the T-shirt, and glanced back up to the mask that she'd stared down in her own demise so many times. She feared this man more than many of the others. But she was unable to contain herself as a warmth began to spread in the pit of her belly, igniting a tiny, burning flame between her legs. It had been so long since she'd been close to anyone. Subconsciously, she licked her lips as she continued to study his shape: the hard lines of his collar bones, and the way the skin of his neck disappeared under the fabric of his shirt.

She wanted to trace her fingers along the line of that point. Myers' breaths came in heavy waves, and her breaths were beginning to match his.

The girl was overcome with desire as she continued to study his sleeping figure. In this state he seemed so calm, and so peaceful… almost human. She was formulating an idea of the best way to touch him, when she began to second guess herself.

Still, she was nearly panting with a mixture of fear and excitement, and the desire to feel something like making love. She tugged on his zipper, revealing a pair of dark boxers. She scoffed at the sight of his underwear, as if they were on the same level now that she'd seen them. She looked up to his face nervously, relieved when a quiet snore escaped his throat.

The girl looked back down at his body, and noticed the large bulge at his crotch. She stared, mesmerized at the silhouette of Michael's cock; something she never imagined seeing. His member was halfway hard in a state of sleeping arousal, poking up from beneath the fabric of his boxers.

She couldn't help herself. She took a deep breath, and prepared herself for the best or the worst. She stared silently at Michael Myers' mask as her fingers moved to the button of her pants, flipping it open.

She then tugged on her own zipper, before hooking her fingers around the waist of her pants, and tugging them down.

She cringed at the audible sound of the fabric coming down over her skin. She paused, afraid, with her pants at her knees, and imagined what she looked like right now. A bit embarrassed, she shook it off without much thought, also trying not to think about whether or not this would classify her as a rapist. A dim gleam of light reflected off Myers' knife as she moved and was reminded of how many times her bloody body was carried off and gruesomely thrown on a hook by this same man, and she decided not to worry after that.

Finally she tugged her pants over her feet, and stood in the dark room in only her underwear. Once again she became self conscious and imagined what would happen if Myers woke up right now, and shuddered.

She would be in for one hell of a trial.

The girl moved closer, slowly inching her hand toward Michael Myers' cock. She could not believe that she was doing this. She was so incredibly turned on by the sight of his toned body, and she wanted to feel him through his boxers so badly that she had to remind herself to listen to his breathing.

Finally her fingertips brushed across the fabric, and she laid her hand lightly on top of his cock. She breathed out gently, glancing up to his face; her body was trembling.

She squeezed Michael Myers' dick softly, enjoying the way it began to get harder as she began to lightly stroke it. She licked her lips as she felt the curve of his dickhead, and followed his shaft all the way back down, gripping the outline and stroking it more.

 _How is he not waking up?_ She thought to herself, eyeing the stalker suspiciously.

He took another heavy breath, and she continued to take advantage of the sleeping killer.

Her fingers snaked through the hole in his boxers and she gasped as her fingertips brushed against the actual skin of Myers' cock. An odd shock was sent throughout her body at her first touch of his skin. She shivered slightly in an attempt to shake off the eerie sensation, and her other hand went to her panties, massaging her own warmth lightly. She began to guide his cock outside of his boxers and stared down at the man's long, exposed member. She was surprised at the size of it, unsure if it was comparable to anything she'd ever experienced in her past life; but she doubted that it was. She was panting heavily as she stroked his cock a few more times, before straightening up and taking one more good look at Myers.

Quietly, she stripped off her panties, tugging them down to her ankles and stepping out of them. She took a deep, nervous breath, and crawled on top of Myers. She crouched above him, stressing her leg muscles as she attempted to pull this off without touching his body or disturbing the bed too much. When she found herself balanced above him, she glanced down at her legs spread just above Michael's hard cock. She smirked to herself before taking his dick in her hand and guiding it to her entrance.

The girl's mouth fell open and her head rolled back in ecstasy as the warm tip of his penis entered her. She sat down on it slowly, and it slid inside her to just past the head.

She was astonished by the sensation. Her pussy contracted in reaction to the entrance of Michael's large cock. She breathed out as she pulled herself back up and then down again, allowing his dick to enter her further than it had before.

She bit her lip. "Mmm," she breathed, before her eyes popped open and she stared at Myers in fear, realizing she'd actually just moaned aloud as she rode his cock.

The killer laid there, seemingly unperturbed.

She breathed out quietly in relief and continued to work herself lower on the stalker's hard shaft.

It wasn't easy to keep her balance on top of the killer, especially when she was struggling to handle the sheer size of his cock. When she was satisfied with how deeply he was buried inside of her, she found herself curious to see just how much farther she had to go… she reached down and measured the distance to the touch. It felt as if there may be an entire inch or more for her to slide down on… but when she attempted to sit even farther, she began to struggle and she settled to work with what she had. If she were to actually sit on him, it would definitely wake him up anyway. The girl closed her eyes in delight as she began to bounce lightly up and down on Myers' cock. She was nearly buzzing with excitement and arousal as this created a new sensation that reached all the way into her belly. Her eyes were beginning to roll to the back of her head as her pussy adjusted to Michael's girth.

She was so entranced by pleasuring herself with the murderer's stiff cock that she didn't even notice that she could no longer hear any sounds but her own.

She paid no attention to anything, except keeping her balance and building up to a faster, harder rhythm. Her eyes were closed as her head rolled around this way and that in concentration. It was all she could do to keep from moaning aloud as his cock was feeling better and better inside of her. She was so aroused that it only took a few good strokes for her to be on the verge of cumming. She began by taking it slow, and building up speed until eventually, she couldn't hold back anymore. The girl was overcome with pleasure as she bounced on his cock and her pussy began to contract in waves of delicious orgasm. Her body began to tremble and she whimpered quietly in delight as she finished with Myers inside her.

The girl's pleasure was short lived as her senses came flooding back to her, no longer clouded by an infatuous desire. She was beginning to regret herself as she realized that this may just be the most senseless thing she'd ever done in her life, including the first one.

Very carefully she lifted herself off Myers' cock, now wet from her pussy. She struggled to control her now uneven breathing. When she found her feet planted on the floor, she looked back at the killer and his cock sill sat straight up, unsatisfied.

Without a second thought she turned her back to the stalker and bent over to pull her jeans back on. She clutched the waistband of her pants, pulling them apart and preparing to step into them.

A sly grin began to spread across her face as she thought about the fact that she just fucked Michael Myers while he was sleeping, and did not wake him up.

The grin was quickly wiped from her face as a large hand suddenly clamped over her shoulder, yanking her around and facing her with the now awakened, hard-bodied Michael Myers, who's suit had been zipped back up halfway.

The girl heard a low grumble of a laugh that caused the hairs of her neck to stand straight up. His hand was still clenched around her shoulder as she stared up at him, wide-eyed and terrified. Once again, she was face-to-face with her most dreaded killer.

She attempted to struggle away from his grasp, turning away from his ghostly face and flailing like a fish out of water. No luck. The killer's grasp was strong against her small wrist. He wasn't letting her go.

She cried out in frustration when he whipped her back around to face him once again. Anger bubbled up inside her eyes as she began to realize her defeat; she thought she'd outdone the killer.

Once again, Myers' body shook slightly as a deep laugh erupted from somewhere within his chest, as if he could sense that she was giving up. The feeling that she experienced was ten times worse than the usual feeling of being a deer in the headlights; this felt like he now actually had a _reason_ to kill her.

The girl screamed aloud in terror as Michael Myers slammed her body up against the wall. She stared into the dark holes of his mask and her skin crawled as she caught a glimpse of his murderous eyes, and the gleam of excitement that was within them. She began to realize he wasn't angry with her; he was toying with her.

The girl's hands instinctively flew up to Myers' that was gripped loosely around her throat. "I-I'm sorry!" She blurted out, unsure if he could even hear her words. "I wasn't trying to take advantage of you-"

Her sentence stopped short as Michael's arm slowly raised, ominously pointing the tip of his bloody kitchen knife to her throat. She shrieked and attempted to wriggle free, but Michael's grip was tight. She squeezed her eyes shut and turned her face away, but she could feel the stalker's gaze studying her every move. She was not completely sure of this air that was felt between them; she could not tell if he was planning to devour her, or if he was just playing with her before he placed her on the dreaded hook.

 _Oh well,_ she thought to herself dryly. _At least I got what I wanted…_

Her mind was shutting down, her consciousness evacuating into some dark corner that she'd developed over time, when the physical pain was overwhelming or when the fear was too much to handle. It was almost like an out of body experience, where instead of feeling the pain first hand, she sat beside herself and watched herself experience it. Over time this tactic saved her from breaking down into insanity and allowing her to keep hold of her human nature many times.

She was beginning to recede into this state of mind, when, almost as if he could sense that she was drifting off, she was startled by the sound of her own shirt bring sliced in half by Myers' kitchen knife. She screamed and looked down at her tattered shirt that now hung open from the sides. Her eyes widened in horror as she stared down at her half-naked body, attempting to quickly take in the sight so she knew exactly what the killer was seeing. His hand was still clenched at her neck and shoulder, holding her still in front of him.

Once again, her head bent backward to look up into his ghostly mask. A hollow pit formed in her stomach as something told her that he was gazing back down at her, studying her; it felt as if he was seeing right into her soul.

Her hands grasped at Myers' wrist that held her fast against the wall. "Please, just kill me. Just kill me," she begged desperately.

A tear pricked her eyes as she realized he wasn't going to let her go that easily. He stood for a moment, and she imagined what his expression must be like under the mask. Would he wear a gruesome frown, or a deranged grin in a moment like this?

She couldn't imagine which before the killer's arm snaked around her waist, hoisting her up and pulling her toward the door. Myers' movements were as smooth as a snake as he carried her out of the doorway, even as she writhed and clawed at anything she could get her hands on, holding on for a few moments before being effortlessly tugged away.

She was unsure of where he was taking her as he stomped down the stairs. She prayed that he was headed for the door, and let out a grunt of anguish when he reached the bottom floor and turned away from it, heading instead for the kitchen.

As Myers brought the girl closer to the doorway, and idea struck her. She knew it wasn't the best idea, and she knew it wasn't going to stop him for long. At the last second before they passed through, the girl's legs flew up at either side of the door and she braced her back against his chest. Her head snapped forward and she was almost crunched into a ball by the sheer force of him walking, but she pushed back against him. The killer omitted a surprised _oof_ before taking a moment to assess the situation, then grabbing both of her legs around the front and drawing them tightly in. His other arm was wrapped underneath her armpits, crossing over her breasts. He turned sideways and walked her through the door.

She felt like a child who'd been throwing a fierce tantrum being forced into compliance by an angry parent. He handled her as if she were light as a feather.

Once they were in the threshold of the kitchen, Myers dropped the girl to her feet. She stumbled forward and glanced around the room while instinctively turning around to face the stalker behind her. She saw no escape save the door he brought her through, which he blocked with his large, masculine body.

The girl stared angrily into the man's mask. She was hunched forward defensively with her arm crossed, clutching the elbow of the other. He stood there, staring back at her. She felt like she could nearly sense his feelings at this point, although she would never know if her presumptions were true-but she could swear that he was grinning at her deviantly beneath the dirty latex mask.

It only angered her more. Without much thought, but with a last glimmer of hope, she dashed forward, faking to the left and leaping to the right. She thought she might be quicker than him, but in this case, she was outmatched. Myers caught on to her trick without even flinching, and he turned to catch her with ease.

The girl cried out furiously as the killer moved her farther back into the room. Her arms flailed as she was hooked around the waist by his strong forearm. He tossed the girl forward, causing her to stumble into the countertop with her back to him. She had no time to recuperate as Myers' hard body was almost immediately pressed up against hers. The countertop began biting into her hip bones.

Michael Myers was folded over her like a big spoon cupping a smaller one. The young girl shivered, goosebumps forming along her body as she could hear and feel the killers' breaths mere inches away from her ear. She jumped, startled as she felt Myers' fingers caressing the left side of her cheek with his right hand, which trailed along her jawline before falling to trace the skin of her neck. She cried softly in fear.

Myers' hand suddenly dropped, tracing across her chest and roughly grasping her hip, pulling her body closer to his.

The girl became even more fearful as she began to notice that warm feeling was beginning to return. With the way his body pressed against hers, holding her fast against the countertop, she felt like a mouse caught in a cat trap. But somehow, she liked it. She liked the way he was touching her and pulling her body closer, and she loved the way it seemed like he wanted so much more…

Her breaths were becoming heavy again, and she was nearly panting with amongst a flurry of confusing feelings as his hands travelled over her body. Her heart beat fast and loud in her chest as mind was overcome with desire. Her head was becoming cloudy as she sighed and her muscles began to release. Waves of warm infatuation were washing over her, and without her consent, she began falling slowly in love with this ruthless killer…

Suddenly, as if he'd had enough of waiting, Myers hoisted her body up so she was bent over the counter. She yelped in surprise, snapped back to reality as adrenaline rushed its way into her veins, and she began questioning her state of mind.

 _Is this what I really want?_

She heard the killer's zipper tug back down behind her.

 _Should I try to run one more time?_

She glanced to the left and right, searching in jest for some way to get out of this situation; but Myers was watching, and held her tightly in place.

In an attempt to deny her own taboo feelings, the girl sighed in preparation, releasing herself and giving up again. She wasn't sure if it was her mind attempting to accept the situation and see it for the best, but she was beginning to feel as if she may be enjoying this…

The girl was startled by the killer yanking down her underwear, which caught in place around her knees. He took a moment to admire her ass, and her head fell forward in defeat. She braced herself, unsure what to expect from a monster like him.

Myers' hands grasped her hips as he slowly guided his cock into her tight pussy, almost as if he was savoring it. She let out a soft, quiet moan, and an sharp thrill coursed through her body as Myers omitted a groan of intense pleasure.

She loved the way that sounded. She wanted to hear it again.

Her hands gripped at the flat surface of the counter as he began to pull it back out once again before slowly pressing back into her entrance. Without realizing it her body was slowly rocking back in forth in sync with his movements, aiding her pussy in gliding up and down his hard shaft.

The girl gasped, her body contorting slightly as he pressed his cock inside of her to the same point she'd reached on her own earlier. Her eyes closed and rolled backward as her pussy squeezed more tightly around his cock. In response, Myers continued his surprisingly gradual pace of pressing his cock as deeper and deeper inside of her.

She laid there, writhing in euphoria as she relished what he was doing to her. A warmth was spreading throughout her body that she hadn't felt in a very long time. The feeling overcame her, spreading from the pit of her tummy and engulfing her heart. She was surprised when an ominous tear squeezed out of her eyeball and rolled down her cheek, dripping onto the countertop, unaccompanied by any significant emotion.

She wondered silently what that was about.

"Ooooo _oohhhhhhhhhh,"_ the girl moaned as Myers pressed his dick even deeper into her pussy. The girl was nearly twitching, her toes clenching and unclenching as he sat there for a moment, watching her. She could feel his cock tightening up inside of her.

She loved the way that felt. Her head was spinning by the sensations that were washing over her body. Something almost supernatural was clouding her mind as the killer's rhythm sped up. Their bodies were beginning to clap together as Myers adjusted himself, leaning himself over her back and putting his hands on the counter at her sides. His torso was long enough that he was able drape himself over her, looking into her face and watching her reactions as he fucked her fervently. One of his hands snaked up and clutched her neck, pulling her face closer to his.

The girl screamed aloud as Michael Myers' cock suddenly and forcefully pounded all the way inside her. As soon as Myers began thrusting himself inside her at this delicious angle, the girl was overcome by the intense sensation of an orgasm beginning to form all throughout her body. Myers' rhythm kept the same pace, and he was grinning mischievously underneath the mask; he knew exactly what he was doing to her.

The girl was becoming entranced with him, falling farther and farther into a pit of burning obsession as he made love to her carefully. The killer's aura alone was permeating her body, and clouding her judgement; eventually, she would be able to think only of him.

The Entity had warned before that this could happen with humans, if you spent too much time around them. But the Entity never imagined that a killer may actually do it on purpose.

Myers could sense the bond developing between them as he fucked her harder and harder. He stared down into her pretty face, contorted and lost in a trance of overwhelming pleasure. Her eyes fluttered around. He could see that she was in ecstasy.

Myers wouldn't normally do this. But something had changed within him as he'd watched this crazy girl having sex with his "sleeping" body.

Myers' fingers wrapped more tightly around the girl's neck and he pulled her face closer to his. Her eyes blinked open and she gazed into the hollowed eyes of his mask. Although she couldn't see the eyes that stared back at her, she could absolutely feel them; her body was buzzing as Michael's trance was beginning to consume her completely.

She stared into Michael Myers' eyes as he continued to pound her hard against the countertop. She knew he was cumming as a low growl escaped from his throat and his fingers gripped even tighter around her neck, and their bodies clapped together harder, louder and faster. The girl's mouth fell open in another sexy moan as she soaked up the feeling of Myers' big cock filling her up, pressed so deeply inside of her, knowing that it was going to be over so soon...

Myers' shoulders rose and fell heavily as his body was still draped over hers. His hand fell from her throat and he pulled his cock out of her slowly, admiring her body once again.

The killer's bond to her was almost palpable now.

But the girl was oblivious to any difference as she slid down off the counter, her feet planting themselves against the floor. She still faced the wall, nervous and unsure of what to do. Then she startled at the sound of Myers' zipper coming all the way up before he grasped her shoulder and whipped her back around to face him.

She stared up at the masked man in fear. What now? Is this the part where he slices her to pieces? Does he take her to the basement, find some chains and tie her up? Or will he just sacrifice her to the Entity?

Myers grabbed his well worn kitchen knife from the counter nearby, studying it ominously for a moment before turning back to the girl. She jumped under his returning gaze, staring at him with a sense of betrayal, as she didn't know what was going on.

The stalker grabbed her face roughly, pulling her close to him and tilting her head to the side. She shook and whimpered softly in terror, her wide eyes glancing around as Myers brought his knife to the point of her neck just below her ear.

The girl cried out in pain as the killer's knife pressed into her skin, slicing it open. Tendrils of warm blood cascaded beautifully down her smooth neck. When she pulled away instinctively, Myers grunted in frustration, yanking her back into place and holding her still by pressing her body into the counter with his. When he was done, he pulled back to admire his work.

 _M.M.,_ written in deep slices planted carefully into the girl's skin.

Tears streamed down her face as she straightened up and cried in front of him. She shook softly as he looked down at her with some emotion unintelligible. Then, his fingers grasped her chin and turned her face up to look at him, in something of a comforting gesture.

She stared up into his eyes and heard a voice emanate from inside her head. It was solid and deep, causing that passionate warmth to erupt within her once again. The sound of Myers' voice brought a shiver to her spine.

 _You are mine._

The girl's fingers travelled up to the stinging pain on her neck. The cuts were deep enough that the mark would be there forever.

She looked up at him again with an uncertain gaze before he bent and deftly threw her over his shoulder. The girl did not wiggle or struggle as Michael Myers walked her outside of the house; she laid across his shoulder limply, almost comfortably, her mind cloudy and tired.

Somehow, she felt safe in the place she was in now, tucked between the crook of Myers' neck and shoulder. The warmth of his exposed skin brushed across hers, sending another shiver throughout her body. She breathed in deeply, her fingers brushing across the texture of the killer's boiler suit, some type of sadness overcoming her as she realized she wasn't sure if she would even remember this after she died.

Once the murderer found his way to the hook in the backyard of the rotting green home, he placed the girl on her feet in front of it. He looked down into her face, and watched the tears begin to roll down her cheeks.

He stared down at her silently. He knew what she was thinking. But, he had no condolences to offer. He was bound by a contract of blood to continue making sacrifices to the Entity... Otherwise, there would be no chance for him to see the girl ever again.

Unable to look at her a moment longer, Myers' hands went to the girl's armpits, and his body was spattered with her blood as he tossed her on the hook.

The girl wailed in excruciating pain, before gritting her teeth and turning her eyes to the murderer before her.

Her hands flew to the hook that pierced her shoulder. She struggled to garble out a sentence through the excruciating pain.

"I will-see you again," she said, before the Entity's disgusting black arms appeared in the air above her, desecrating her body and dragging her upward into the black sky.

Myers watched as she disappeared.

He hoped that she was right.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:**

 **Hello again everyone. I'd like to preface this by saying that now that I had to redo the tenses in this story also, because somehow I keep forgetting that I'm using third person and not first person. I'm always up for comments/criticism. Thanks for reading!**

 **A New Kind of Curse**

Chapter Two

Cold, rusted metallic gears and conduits shifted beneath the girl's hands, the sounds of the generator echoing softly into the chilly night air. The loud, clanking sounds of it always made her so tense, and she wished there was a way to quiet these things down. Sadly, she hadn't found a way to do that just yet.

At the other side of this generator was Dwight, a helpful man, but sometimes painfully flighty; seems like he's always the first to hide when someone's in trouble or needs help.

At this point in her life-well, can you even call this a life?- she began to think her face had been permanently molded into a hopeless, fearful frown. How much longer did she have to do this before moving on to the next life?

Or was this the last one?

She didn't think she deserved to be sent to Hell, but she could hardly imagine a life worse than this one, being stabbed and beaten nearly every waking moment of this life.

She'd been nervously awaiting her next meeting with Myers, although surprisingly it hadn't come yet. She'd been wondering for days whether or not the Entity was aware of what happened between them. _Has it banned him from seeing me?_ She wondered to herself. She wasn't exactly sure of how much time had passed, but she did know she'd encountered seemingly every killer multiple times since, but hadn't seen him again.

Somehow, she was actually disappointed. She'd been nervous to see him again, since she was unsure of the way his mind worked, or if he's even really got one at all. Will he remember what happened last time? Will he care, or experience any slight emotion that might represent that he does?

If that was the case, then how would that affect her time in the trials? Would the Entity eventually choose to have her lifted up, never to be seen again, tragically consumed by its cold, spidery fingers?

Lost in her reverie, the hair at the back of the girl's neck began to prickle, and she began to sense that she was being watched.

She threw a quick glance over her shoulder, and immediately let out a startled gasp.

There he was, in his villianeous glory. That empty white mask; the large, broad body.

Suddenly, flashbacks made an inherent attack on her brain. Her fingers fell from the generator. In the corner of her eye she saw Dwight jump up, and sprint away, but she hardly noticed.

She was back with Michael, the last time she'd seen him. Just before she left the trial.

He'd just placed her from his shoulder and planted her on the ground in front of him, taking a moment to study the girl he'd had his first romantic encounter with. She stared up into his mask and he looked down into her tearful eyes.

She said she'd see him again. Then without a moment's pause, he'd hoisted her up, and hung her by the neck on that old, rusty hook.

He'd watched as the Entity came down, lifting her up and taking her away to some other dimension he'd never been to.

And now, here she was again; back within his world. Back within his realm of control.

The girl once again snapped back into consciousness as the faint sounds of a heartbeat began to crescendo into a mind-numbing _thump thump thump._

She was just turning her body to run the hell away, when the bloodthirsty killer stomped right past her, bloodied knife poised in the air, taking off after the jittery Dwight.

Her hand flew to her chest as she fell to the ground, heaving out a few shaky breaths as she watched Myers chase Dwight into the distance. His pace never exceeded a from walk, but he was still _so fast._

Whatever he had in store for her, she wasn't sure if she could escape.

 _Then again, do I really want to escape him?_ she asked herself.

She nearly punched herself in the face at the thought. _Don't be so stupid and crazy!_ the girl chastised herself. _You can't fall in love with a fucking killer._

But somehow, deep within her heart, she could not deny that she might have been craving to see him again, and to be close to him again. Hell, she'd even dreamed of being carried over his shoulders one more time, even if it was on the way to the dreaded hook...

She took a moment to steady herself, and continued working on the generator, the sounds of it signaling that it was just about done.

Just as soon as the gen popped and she was shrouded in a white, iridescent glow, she heard a scream in the distance, and was made aware that Dwight had finally been taken down only a few meters away. She watched stoically as she crept away from the generator and Dwight's silhouetted body was lifted off the ground, then thrown onto a hook.

That all-too familiar scream erupted throughout the entire forest, and never fell short of sending her brain into a terrified frenzy. Before she could stop herself she began to sprint in the opposite direction of Dwight, finding herself in the old Ironworks building. Before she could stop herself the heartbeat erupted in her mind and she sprinted around a corner, hoping to find a good hiding place, when she was met with a hard-bodied Michael Myers and the sharp, piercing tip of his kitchen knife. It slashed right through her chest and she wailed in pain, sprinting forward, ducking boxes and barrels, in a desperate attempt to get away. But as she continued on for a few feet, with a clearly visible trail of blood leading directly to her current position, she was aware of the heartbeat disappearing.

Through a window, she watched as the killer stalked off into the forest once again.

She turned and began to climb the stairs, blood marking every step she took. Her brain began working to comprehend what had just happened.

For some reason, it seemed as if he did not actually mean to hit _her._ It was as if he stabbed her out of a mixture of instinct and surprise, as neither had a good visual of each other before that moment occurred.

 _Don't get your hopes up,_ she said to herself sternly.

... _But then why didn't he follow me?_

She cursed herself at the top of the stairs, seeing that someone else had already gathered the contents of this chest. With no other choice, as she didn't want to throw herself from the top story of this large building, she begrudgingly made her way back down to the bottom floor.

She became aware that Dwight's silhouette was still visible, now grasping at the Entity's claws and attempting to fight them from piercing his struggling body.

He didn't have much time left.

Ever the team player, the girl broke into action, her legs carrying her in a frantic sprint across the metallic floor and once again planting her feet into the crunching grass and dirt, doing her best to limp along to that fateful hook. As she neared the hook, placed dreadfully out in the open surrounded by no trees or sight-shelter, she began to hear Dwight's whimpers and desperate cries for help.

 _Don't worry, you little baby. I'm coming to save you._

Crouching at the base of the hook, and throwing a few distressed glances this way and that, she assumed that it was safe, and reached up to lift his heavy body from the hook. When his feet hit the ground, he sprinted off to the edge of the map, moaning and bleeding profusely.

The girl took off after him.

They rendesvoused behind a large rock and a conveniently placed tree. Dwight crouched to the ground and the girl's hands began moving this way and that over his body, patching up the wounds in an attempt to stop the bleeding. She healed him slowly, but made sure to see it all the way through.

Now, the girl crouched to the ground, staring emptily into the dirt as Dwight returned the favor.

After a few seconds, she was surprised as Dwight's hands stopped their healing and he turned to sprint away from her. By instinct she jumped up and began to follow him as he sprinted back toward the building. Then an omnipresent sound notified her that the killer was around here somewhere...

A few mere feet in front of her, Dwight threw a look over his shoulder and his eyes went wide. Then he changed his course of direction, leaping to the right and attempting to shield himself behind a fallen log...

All just as Michael brushed past her, nearly knocking her to the ground with his long-legged gait, all too quickly closing the gap between himself and her comrade, before bringing the blade down at the nape of Dwight's neck, sending him to the dirt in one fatal hit.

 _"Aaaagghhh!"_ Dwight screamed in terror. The girl watched as he was effortlessly hoisted into the air once again.

Dwight's arms and legs flailed as he attempted to struggle free of Myer's grasp. _"You tunneling BASTARD!"_ he screamed.

At this point, she was beginning to feel like this was her fault. Even if she and Dwight never really got along, he was still her teammate. Still sort of/kind of her friend.

She could see the direction Myers was walking in. Maybe she could get there in time...

She began sprinting as quickly as her injured body would allow. She wasn't sure how he hadn't seen her trodding up next to him as he began to near the hook, although surely that mask didn't allow him the broadest field of view.

The girl jumped in front of Myers at the last second, planting herself right in front of the hook in a crouched position as Dwight continued to attempt to wriggle free.

She wasn't sure why, but for some reason this sometimes worked. She stared up at Michael with a mix of terror and hope, as he stood staring straight ahead, holding Dwight in his arms, unable to throw him on the hook as there was someone in the way.

 _Only a few seconds before he realizes..._

 _SHIK!_ His blade whistled through the air, slashing her right at the neck, without even looking down at her for a second. He was too strong for Dwight to wriggle free, and she fell to the ground, helpless and weak, now that her plan had failed.

She looked up just as Dwight's body was tossed mercilessly onto the hook.

"I'm sorry, Dwight..." she murmured to herself, although surely he couldn't hear, as his body was mutilated and carried into the air, consumed by the Entity, and the pointed blade of the hook crashed to the ground just next to her with a metallic _TWANG._

Michael turned to her quickly, staring down at her for something like half of a second. Her heart nearly stopped, looking at him face to face again for the first time in a long time.

 _What now?_

 _Have I ruined the mercy that he had chosen to show me?_

The girl began to realize that this was the end of that rope, when Michael stooped down, placing a thick hand around her neck and lifting her in the air, bringing her face merely inches from his mask. So close, she could hear his breaths going in, and out, forever calm and unhurried. Her hands struggled weakly with his, and her feet dangled high in the air.

He was staring at her still. She could feel him looking right into her eyes, even if she couldn't see them.

Then, a voice. In her head. Sounding just like her own thoughts, although she _knew_ that this did not come from her.

 **Do not interfere.**

Then she was thrown to the ground, discarded to the side like the shell of a pistachio, crashing onto her back so hard the breath was knocked out of her chest.

Her blurred vision stilled to see the killer stalking away, once again.

Lying on the ground like a helpless injured bird made her feel weak and pathetic.

Fear of the unknown is an impenetrable force. In her past life, fear drove her from many things. Fear of the dark, fear of spiders, fear of burglars or rapists. Those all seemed so mundane now. Oh, what she'd do to have those back.

This was so much different. Imagine, being trapped in a nightmare with a variety of different creatures or serial killers. Each with a contract to kill, in the most brutal way possible. And a demon that appears from thin air with long, spidery arms and claws to stab you and carry you up into the foggy abyss, to eat you, or whatever the hell it does.

Imagine getting used to that, or as used to it as you possibly could be. Imagine reaching the point in your life where you know you're going to die sometimes, and you know you're going to live sometimes, and you're basically okay with that. You know to expect being stabbed and thrown on a hook. It's just a day to day thing, now.

Then one day, that changes. Something is different now, but you don't know what, and you don't know what it's going to do to you.

That's the position she was in now. Lying on the ground, hardly able to move, only able to crawl. Lying in a pool of blood. Knife cuts covering her body. Unable to remain quiet and undetected, due to the immense amount of pain.

At first she didn't much care what happened to her anymore. She wasn't worried about the pain, or that fear, or the guilt of her comrades dying. As previously mentioned, it was just a daily thing.

But now, she had something to worry about. There was no longer a doubt in her mind that Michael was doing this on purpose. He had something planned for her, and she had no idea what.

Was it revenge? Did he feel as if she had taken advantage of him? Or had she sparked some kind of an obsession? What would that mean for her?

All these questions and more haunted her brain, as she cried quietly, crawling away in a last attempt to escape, if only for a moment.

A scream erupted from the woods behind her, and she needn't look to know that someone had just been thrown on a hook.

She heard footsteps crunching up next to her, and turned her head to see Jake running up to her.

Though she was thankful, she nearly cried out to tell him to go away. Hide. Try to live, without her. At this point, she just felt like a bad luck charm; Michael knew about where she was, and was also smart enough to know that someone was going to try and save her.

But she didn't. Hell, he probably wouldn't listen anyway.

She stared up emptily at her savior, thoughts and curiosities swirling in her brain. He was probably wondering why she was gazing at him, but she hadn't the energy to explain.

Here came that feeling, again. That "Myers is watching" type of feeling.

Her eyes snapped away from Jake the moment she noticed it, and looked down the way to see exactly that. A ghostly face shrouded in the shadows, simply watching them. Stalking. Gaining power.

"Jake, run!" she hissed.

"I'm almost do-"

"RUN!"

Maybe it was the shrill, desperate sound of her voice, but this time he listened. She looked up again to see that Myers was moving much more quickly now, blade once again poised high in the air.

" _Run!"_ she cried again, helplessly, feeling as if she was watching a little puppy run into a busy street. Seemingly in slow motion, she watched Jake sprinting through the grass. Her heart swelled with a mixture of pity, anguish and sadness at the sight of him constantly looking over his shoulder, desperate and fearful, attempting to escape a bloodthirsty killer. She willed herself to get up, jump in front of him, do something, but her body would not allow her.

Finally, Jake couldn't run anymore. The blade came down, and so did he, crashing to the ground with a terrible cry that shook her heart and made her stomach turn. In the distance behind him, she saw the other survivor give up on its battle with the Entity, their arms falling to their sides as its claws punctured their mangled body.

This was it.

Without thought, tears began streaming down her face. She didn't even realize she was crying; actually, she didn't realize anything at all. No thoughts were going through her brain as she watched Michael carry a squirming Jake into the shed, and down the stairs; throwing his body on a hook in the disgusting, hellish basement. That scream penetrated the air once again, but this time, something was different...

Just her and Michael, now.


	3. Chapter 3

**A New Kind of Curse**

Chapter Three

 _I always knew that you'd come back to get me_

 _And you always knew that it wouldn't be easy_

 _To go back to the start to see where it all began_

 _Or end up at the bottom to watch how it all ends_

Cold, swirling blackness enveloped two beings standing face to face within a plane of incomprehensible, unexplainable reality. The air was thick and heavy, livable only for something like these two... _creatures,_ or _monsters,_ as a mere human would call them.

The creatures communicated, but not in a way that any regular _person_ could fathom... indescribable in its nature, and only translateable by the two engulfed within it. So as you read these words on a page, please understand that this is not the way it truly was spoken.

Each being stared at each other with a certain contempt that could only be seen between two rivals of incredible power; one that was initially powerless in any other environment than it was currently in, and the other, powerful in any environment _except_ the one that it was currently in.

And so explains the relationship between the Entity and Michael Myers.

Way back when, in the creation of this _game,_ as some may call it, the Entity came across a deal with some greater power, and managed to capture many horrendous beings within its control, granting them power only within certain stages, or _maps,_ as some call them, of this "life", where the Entity may be inaccessible and therefore unharmed by these creatures who are much stronger than itself. And as it is now, these creatures have not yet discovered a way to usurp the power of the Entity, and take back their righteous freedom to murder by their own free will.

This is the only way that a force such as Myers could possibly be captured and detained, and forced to commit a will other than its own. Quite pathetic of the Entity itself, although the Entity always seemed to believe itself to be the king of all kings. Myers, though, knew the difference between himself and this monster. He had never forgotten his true power, the way some of the other "killers" had. The Nurse, The Witch, The Doctor, and The Trapper, for example. Each had almost completely forgotten their pasts, while Michael always remembered and held onto his insatiable lust for the slicing of flesh, spatters of blood, and gurgles of pain that he'd retained from the "real" world. All the while, most of the others forgot their memories and continued to work under the Entity's basic contracts, while Michael's dreams of unrestricted slaughter often reappeared freshly within his deeply tainted, evil mind.

But now he stood, characteristically still, but actually _listening_ to the orders given to him by another being.

The Entity spoke to him with contempt, as it always had. Not many could understand the actual emotions that came from this being, although Michael was able to recognize them without a moment's thought. This being was, quite simply, _jealous..._ after all, why would it dispose of other creatures to commit these amounts of bloodshed if it wasn't capable of doing so itself? A creature who so strongly thirsted for blood, but would hardly reach out its own claws to commit the deed, until the deed was already done... its actions speak for itself. Weak, powerless... that is, until it found a way to utilize the immense power of others.

And so, Michael Myers looked down upon the Entity in a way that no killer had thought to before, for reasons no killer had recognized before. The Entity saw this, and resented him deeply for knowing the truth that it so forcibly denied. But Michael stood tall, unafraid of the Entity and the fate it promised upon its monstrous victims who refused to follow its will; a fate which still had yet to be seen. Michael had considered that this fate didn't even exit.

But that day was coming. Albeit slowly, Michael was planning his escape. He would take down the Entity and continue his evil reign. All he needed was time...

And, quite possibly... a _human_.

At first, the thought for Michael was absolutely unfathomable. As was said earlier, these thoughts are not accurately represented on paper, but will be expressed in a way that other _worldly_ beings, who were not produced within an undefinible realm of evil, may understand.

Therefore, the thoughts of a human aiding him in escaping this realm were, in the very least, quite undesirable. That is, until he came across a human girl who was so careless and unwary of herself, that she would put herself in danger in order to experience something other than constant fear and torture. Myers was able to recognize this as soon as her face wisped forward within mere inches of his own, concealed beneath an ugly, trademark white-faced mask, while her fearful yet excited eyes flashed above him, sparking his curiosity. No one had ever dared to step close to him before. Actually, he had attempted this "sleeping" trick many times before, but to no avail, simply losing the 'matches' surprisingly quickly and consequently losing his 'points' with the Entity, which truly had no meaning to him. And so, Michael was utterly astonished when the girl crept closer and closer to him, leaning over his face, but not stopping there... actually, continuing to _molest_ him moments later, which resulted in a feeling he had never come close to experiencing before. And so, he had seen in this girl, something he had never seen before.

Something he not only needed, but something he _wanted._

Something he was willing to argue for, even if it meant a fate that he couldn't guaruntee. Michael could never know exactly what would be in store for him after he suggested the Entity to bring a humaninto this realm alongside him, to aid him in his "fight against the other humans".

As expected, the Entity was never receptive to this idea, although thankfully, she never hinted that she felt Michael could be suggesting this based off any other notion than wanting to defeat the survivors.

As time progressed, Michael found himself unable to pursue survivors with any true satisfaction or endearment, and therefore the process meant nothing to him. Dwight after Dwight, Jake after Jake, Nea after Nea... they all looked the same to him, and somehow, he never came across _her_ again.

Once again, he found himself within the chamber of the Entity's grasp, summoned again to answer her meaningless, vapid questions.

As it came to be, as soon as she was face to face with him, one of these questions arose, dense with ignorance. "Michael, why are you failing so miserably?"

Michael stood calmly in response. Somewhere within his 'spirit', as one might call it, a condescending chuckle arose. What a human might describe as a sigh emanated from within him, as he forced himself not to lunge forward and attack the Entity; something he knew would be of no use in the state of displacement he was currently stuck in.

"Almighty Entity," Michael bared through spiritually gritted teeth, as the killers were forced to address her. "My power is nearly extinguished. As I mentioned before, I need something to support me."

"The infamous Michael Myers needs a support system?" sneered the Entity, improfessional as ever, as if it had ever lifted a finger of its own to complete these arduous contracts. "How could you possibly require a support system?"

Myers' initial response was a stereotypical silence. Until suddenly, he grumbled, "My power fades daily as these stages do not stimulate or challenge me." He glared at the Entity through his white-faced mask. "Survivors grow in power daily, while we Killers remain the same. Fix this. Or I will disappear, and your revenues will cease dramatically."

The Entity remained motionless for a moment, its spidery arms twitching slightly and conveying an emotion it did not intend for Myers to notice: an apparent feeling of discomfort. How could he possibly know about its revenues? And how could he be aware of the revenues it managed to generate off of the killers, let alone the revenues from Myers himself?

The Entity knew what Michael wanted, as he had suggested it before, but it caused the Entity enough stress that it had never actually considered the thought. But when it was stated the way Michael had told it just now, the words made sense. Right? Nearly every killers' gains had diminished within the last few months of 'game' time, and absolutely no revenues had risen. Actually, many revenues had diminshed and many remained the same.

The Entity took a moment to consider this, its inky black limbs twitching this way and that. The creature was thinking very hard, as Michael could see, although he knew it would be quite foolish for it to turn down his offer once again, as it was quite true that almost no killer was doing very well since some recent advances in survivor technology.

"Well, Michael," the Entity began, addressing him as some sort of hopeless child. "You had better hope this suits you, and aids you in your advances. Because, simply put, if nothing is gained from this, you will be gone; forever."

Although indescerinible to the naked eye, Michael grinned mischeviously beneath the mask.

This is exactly as he had planned for. This was his escape.


	4. Chapter 4

**A New Kind of Curse**

Chapter Four

Here begins yet another dull, redundant trial led by its bloodthirsty killer, Michael Myers. Michael found himself spawned into yet another dark, moonlit forest, crows settling down atop rocks and buildings, bushes and leaves swaying against a light and undetectable breeze, and survivors surely creeping about here somewhere. None of it was entertaining anymore.

If he was capable of basic human emotions, Michael would have groaned as he weilded the kitchen knife confidently in front of him, the way a child would as it woke up for school. But, he was incapable of such outward expressions of emotion, and was doomed to live his life with thoughts and feelings left forever unexpressed.

But, that did not mean that those thoughts and feelings did not exist.

He crept around quietly, keeping an eye out for any moving and breathing sack of flesh that was destined for the sharp tip of his blade. It had been quite a while since his conversation with the Entity, and he craved for the return of this human girl, his ticket away from this dreary, hopeless dystopia. He began every match now searching for her in particular.

From around the corner of a very large rock, Michael noticed a dark green jacket creeping about, being quite useless to its other living teammates. This one definitely deserved to die.

As was his profession, Michael utilized the moment to generate power from stalking the oblivious soul, gaining power every second, remaining completely unnoticed, until instinctively his arm rose up above his head and he brandished the knife high in the air. He moved much more quickly now, and turned the corner of the large stone just as the survivor-a hopeful Jake-took off at a full sprint to keep away from him. But, it was no use, as Michael's long-legged strides allowed him to catch up very quickly. For a moment he derived some small speck of enjoyment from the sight of Jake fearfully glancing over his shoulder as he ran, terror apparent within his gleaming eyes.

The chase didn't last long before the knife came down hard into the flesh of the survivor's back. The force of Myers' stab was too great and Jake collapsed to the ground with a rather dramatic cry of pain.

Just as he had done a hundred times before, Michael effortlessly hoisted up the man, throwing him over his shoulder and walking to the nearest hook, just outside of an old wooden building. Once the man was heaved up, his body punctured through by the hook, Michael stalked off once again, searching for his next victim.

He didn't make it very far before he could hear the sounds of another person-a girl, judging by the sounds of its faint gasps-sprinting past him, somewhere out of eyesight. And so, he turned around, and in the not so far off distance caught sight of Jake hanging from the hook, and not too far before him, was the girl.

Not just any girl.

That girl.

His girl.

Michael's heart somersaulted as he watched her running carelessly across the field toward her teammate. He took note of the fact that he always saw her trying to help the others. But within a few moments he snapped out of his reverie, the unusual and euphoric feeling of excitement budding up within him, his legs carrying him faster and faster, closer and closer to the human which he had been nearly dying to see.

Michael reached the hook only a second after she did, and he stood next to her as she reached up and lifted Jake from the hook. In the fleeting moment that passed, the girl noticed him and he watched in what felt like slow motion as a flurry of emotions crossed over her face: realization, terror, and finally, what looked like hope. Her eyes were wide and her mouth fell open... like she was almost happy to see him.

That is, until his knife came down on her, slashing her cheek as she had not expected him to stab her, considering he had avoided doing so the last time she'd seen him. She screamed wildly and sprinted forward without a second thought, throwing glances over her shoulder to see if he was following; which he was.

"Why?" she screamed in terror as he chased her through the forest, and into a decrepit building that was in shambles. She turned a corner as quickly as her injured body would allow, which was a mistake, as that tiny moment of time allowed Michael the chance to reach out again with his blade, slashing her back and tearing her shirt, where blood immediately began to spurt from the open gash and staining the shirt above it. She fell to the ground, weeping. He stood above her, staring her down, taking a few moments to consider what should happen next.

The Entity was very clear that this process required a bit of focus, skill, and luck. If he should fail this time, who knows how long it could be before he would see her again, and his plan would be postponed for a second time. He couldn't bare the thought.

Michael stooped down, wrapping his large hands around her waist, picking her up and carrying her over his shoulder. He noticed that instead of struggling, her body was draped over him rather comfortably, almost as if she were relishing this moment and drinking up this feeling of being held by him.

That's impossible, Michael thought. She is probably just stupid.

Michael turned around, and was internally joyed to see the dark stairs to the basement were just in front of him. From the corner of his eye he noticed another survivor peeking in the doorway, drawn by the screams of its comrade and hoping to be of help, although unknowingly, it was helping the killer.

He walked a bit slowly down the stairs, considering that this girl was probably expecting to be thrown on the hook and murdered just like any other trial. But in reality, she was so very wrong.

He turned the corner and the dim, reddish glow enveloped the two beneath its demonic light, powered only by the evil which was generated within these hellish basements. Michael quite enjoyed it here, as the devilish quality of the environment only inspired him to be even more ruthless and evil.

But evil still had its limits, and its exceptions. And this girl was a lucky winner.

Instead of just dropping her to the floor, Michael stooped downward from his immense height, placing the girl on the ground quite tenderly, a gesture that was unheard of from the infamous Michael Myers. The girl stared at him in disbelief, clutching her arm as she rested up against the old wooden boards that made up the wall. Michael stared back at her, studying her face, and realized that her features actually quite tickled his fancy, in some way or another. Unlike some of the other survivors, she was quite appealing for him to look at, even when she wasn't drenched in blood; a sight he always loved to see.

And after a moment, he lifted himself up and turned again, just in time to notice a deep red locker door moving quietly closed.

 _Too easy,_ he thought to himself as he stalked up to the locker, wrenching open the doors, and was met face to face with Meg, whose eyes bulged wide with fear. She realized that she had made a terrible mistake.

And so, a few moments later, Michael was decorated with her blood as he redundantly tossed her body onto the Entity's hook. She cried out in pain, and he took a moment to watch her, his face inches from her own as she twisted and convulsed with agony. He held the tip of his knife to her face, considering for a moment if this was a moment to be celebrated with an extra slice of her skin, decorating her face with the macabre mark of Michael Myers.

But he didn't, for once again his focus shifted as he heard the girl behind him cry out, "Michael, don't!"

He did not react or respond to her exclamation, and only stood motionless for another moment, before turning and stalking back up the basement stairs, in search of his next kill.


	5. Chapter 5

**A New Kind of Curse**

Chapter Five

The girl laid there, crying and whining quietly on the floor of the basement, which was dirtied with so much blood, wet and dried, old and new. She looked up to Meg who dangled helplessly from the hook; she willed herself to get up and save her, but her body was so injured that she could not muster the strength to get herself off of the floor.

Meg stared down at her with a mixture of pain and anger. "Why..." she groaned, struggling to form her words. "Why didn't he hook _you?_ " she finally spat.

The guilt came crashing down on the girl, who somehow felt as if this could really be her fault, although she had no say in the actions of the brutal murderer. "I don't know," she half whined, half sobbed. "I don't know Meg, Michael has acted crazy toward me the last few times I've seen him in the trials... I'm scared, I don't know what he's going to do to me!"

Meg's expression changed as she could see the true desperation on the girl's face. Her cheeks were wet with tears, her body shook profusely, and she was sitting in a pool of her own blood.

Meg herself cried out as the Entity's claws appeared from thin air, coming down and nearly impaling her. She struggled with her arms clutching at the Entity's spidery limbs, and prayed to anything above that someone would come and save them.

But her fears were only deepened as the sound of Jake's terrorized scream rang out from the floor above them, and only about a minute later, the same sound rang out from what sounded like Claudette a few meters away. Curse these survivors who huddle together and make it so easy for the killer to kill. Within moments, a heartbeat rang out within the two girls' ears, and Michael came down the stairs, baring an angry Jake whose arms flailed and punched at the bloodthirsty man, but it was no use. Within moments he joined Meg on the hook, who was unable to focus on anything except her struggle against the Entity. Then Michael left again, presumably to retrieve the other downed survivor, and returned moments later with the woman also attempting to wiggle her way from his grasp. But, instead of being thrown on the other bloodied hook, he tossed her body to the ground right in front of the girl who still sat against the wall of the basement.

The girl cried and whimpered in terror, as she could see this situation was taking a turn for the worse. In this life, anything out of the ordinary was always bad news; like when the ground suddenly began to rumble, bells tolling every few seconds after an exit gate was opened, for example. That took some time getting used to.

And now, the girl wondered once again, what sort of fate she was destined for with Michael Myers.

She stared up at his emotionless body, which stared back down at her. She wondered for a moment what he was thinking, if anything. But she didn't have much time to consider, as he crouched down next to her slowly. She drew in a terrified breath, shying away from the stalker and leaning as far away from him as she could without falling over, but his face drew nearer and nearer.

 _Hhhhh, hhhhh._ That sound of Michael breathing through his mask. The thought of him so closely resembling a human beneath that mask and bodysuit somehow terrified her even more.

"What are you doing?" she sobbed aloud.

As a response, Michael's hand came forward, knife in hand.

She stared down at it, eyes wide, mouth gaping. She didn't understand at first. But then she did.

Offering. He was offering her the blade.

She had no inital reaction except to stare at the knife and back at him, a tear cascading smoothly down her cheek.

"What the _fuck?!_ " Jake choked from the hook, having seen what was happening, and beginning to understand the gesture himself. At this point, the girl noticed that Meg had already been taken by the Entity, as she was nowhere to be found.

Michael pushed the blade even closer to the girl now, growing impatient. Still she backed away as far as she could.

"What?! No! Why? _No!"_ she cried desperately. _What does he want me to do?_

Claudette still lay there, silently. Quiet, as was her nature. Still, both the girl and Michael noticed the way she shivered in distress, her eyes conveying every emotion that her mouth didn't speak. The girl sobbed loudly as she began to realize what Michael wanted her to do.

She looked at the masked man once again, her face twisted and contorted, wholly disturbed. "Why Michael?"

That masked face just stared back at her.

" _Why?"_ she cried again.

Tired of waiting, Michael shuffled forward, and the girl screamed in fright. She attempted to move away, and squirmed as much as her injured body would allow her, but she was too weak to jump up and run. Before she knew it, a heavy hand had wrapped around her shoulder, and she was being forcefully pulled closer to Michael. She shivered as he grabbed her, positioning himself behind her, both of his arms wrapped around her with her back nestled in between his long, crouched legs. As if he was about to teach her how to swing a bat, or a golf club.

Except that he was about to teach her how to swing a knife.

Finally a pained, sorrowed noise escaped from Claudette; the girl stared down at her comrade in horror as tremendous guilt flowed through her veins.

"Mara," she spoke the girl's name with what energy she had left. "I think... I think Michael is initiating you."

Mara shook her head wildly in denial. If it were anyone else's warm, muscular arms wrapped around her, she would feel entirely safe, happy, and comfortable. But this was Michael Myers standing behind her, his hand snaking down her arm, his fingers tracing her skin all the way, sending shivers through her spine. The palm of his hand settled on her skin at her wrist, and he wrapped his hand around the outside of hers. _Hhhhh, hhhhh._ Now his breath was tickling at her hair, her neck, her ear. She could lightly feel the latex of his mask brushing against the side of her face, hovering just above her shoulder.

She nearly vomited all over the poor woman beneath her. Instinctively she pulled away to the opposite side of him, her shoulder coming up to her neck, like a child who was being tickled. This only caused Michael to force her back the other way, squeezing her more tightly within his arms.

With his hand still resting on the outside of her own, his palm to the back of her hand, the murderer's thumb began to snake throught the crook of the girl's thumb and forefinger, applying pressure and forcing her hand to open. His left arm snaked around her side, pressing the handle of the blade tightly into her hand, and used his fingers once again to force her to grip the blade.

Mara was too weak to even attempt to fight back. Tears continued to roll down her cheeks in a stream, her lips tightening in a childlike sob as she stared down at one of her favorite teammates. "Claudette," she stammered in a voice full of anguish. "Claudette, I'm so-I'm so sorry." She tried to release her grip from the kitchen knife, but Michael's grip was too strong.

"No," she whispered as her arm was slowly lifted by the killer's. She hadn't noticed that his other arm continued to rest comfortably wrapped around her waist, his hand gently grasping her hip in an unnoticed and uncharacteristic sign of intimacy.

Once the killer's arm was raised high in the air, and the girl's along with it, it remained for a moment, unmoving. The red light of the basement gleamed off of the face of the knife, shining down on Claudette's eyes which tremored slightly with genuine terror.

Mara wondered why these seconds continued to pass, her arm suspended in the air, the other hand resting unconsciously on Michael's thigh, his legs bent and wrapping around her sides. Her fingers were digging into the navy jumpsuit, but he didn't notice.

He was too busy savouring this delicious moment. The moment he brought an innocent woman into the maddening world of sin. The world he had resided in since childhood. His eyes drank in Claudette's palpable fear. He was nearly aroused by the two womens' dramatic show of human emotion: the terror, the sadness, hopelessness, and defeat. He so thoroughly enjoyed the way Mara cried and shook between his arms, that his left arm clenched her body very tightly against his own. But then he shifted, his arm moving upward and now cinching around her waist, her back pressing against his chest. This is why he decided to savour this moment.

But the moment was not to be savoured for very long. Just as is with anything, in any physical realm, no moment can be savoured forever.

And so, Michael sucked in his breath, his left arm finally leaving the girl's waist and flying up to join its hold on the handle of his favorite blade. Both of his hands now held hers suspended in the air, and within a moment, the blade came flying down, and together, Michael and Mara plunged the blade into Claudette's chest. Claudette heaved, her body unable to withstand the tremendous pressure, her knees flying up to nearly meet her stomach as she let out an antagonized wail of pain.

It was impossible to discern the difference between the exclamations of both women. The basement was filled with a noisy cacaphony of screaming.

If Michael could laugh, he would have laughed uncontrollably as he pulled the knife from Claudette's chest, Mara's hand still wrapped beneath his, before plunging it down once again.

Their victim screamed, cried, and thrashed about with every entrance of his knife into her body. Mara's mind was being stained and traumatized by the scene and the feeling of this weapon clasped within her hand as it so smoothly entered the flesh of her teammate, her friend-her victim.

Michael kept going until Claudette could scream no longer. Puncture wounds covered her torso, her chest, her neck, and one had even broken into her face, leaving a gorgeous bloody hole right in the side of her cheek.

Once the woman stopped moving, the fun was over, and Michael released his grip upon Mara's hand, his arms now falling to wrap themselves around her waist once again. Before she could understand what was happening, or even respond, the terrified girl was hoisted upward, spun around on her feet, and subsequently slammed hard against the wall of the basement. She thought she could hear the sound of the wooden boards giving way beneath the force of her back colliding with it.

Michael forced her against the wall with both of his hands wrapped around her biceps. He looked down into her beautiful, pale, blood-stained and tormented face. She continued to sob, her eyes closed, wrinkled in an expression of intense grief and agony. He continued to watch her shriek and sob and cry for quite a few moments until finally she calmed down enough to open her eyes and look back up at him, as he stared back down at her.

Her breaths came out as shudders, and she gasped through an intense show of emotion. She looked up into the eyeholes of his mask, wondering how such a creature could ever be brought into the world.

She drew a quick breath in as she felt the palm of his hand press ever so gently against the side of her face... caressing her.

 _What the fuck is going on here?_ she wondered to herself.

His hand continued to move smoothly across her skin, his fingertips softly drifting up and down the side of her face ever so slowly. Feeling her. Tracing her features. Until his palm rested against her face once again, and fell gradually, his fingertips now resting below her jawline. She hadn't noticed as his left hand had now left her bicep and was snaking its way up her shoulder to caress her in the same way the other hand did.

Her eyes closed, no longer staring up into the killer's mask. Somehow he felt as if he missed the feeling of her eyes staring fearfully up at him, and his head tilted ever so slightly in response to her gaze being averted. But still, he enjoyed to study her face with her eyes closed nearly all the same.

Within moments, his hands came together, thumb to thumb and finger to finger, wrapped around the entirety of her neck. Then, quite gently, he began to squeeze. She gasped while she could, startled and surprised, her hands flying up to clasp at his forearms in an attempt to pull them away, as his thumbs began to press harder and harder at the front of her neck. What felt like ages passed as the air within her body was slowly squeezed out of her, her eyes and lips began to lose feeling, and she gurgled and choked by the hands of the man she had once fucked in a desperate attempt for some feeling of romance and closeness. How betrayed she felt.

 _I could have loved you,_ she thought to herself.

 **You do love me.**

But she could not hear these foreign thoughts that had traversed into her mind from one that was not her own, as her consciousness was so quickly being snuffed out at the hands of this ruthless murderer. Her legs trembled, kicked and thrased as they now hung suspended in the air.

Michael's arms flexed as he began to squeeze with all his might, and he watched with pleasure as her eyes began to roll to the back of her head, mouth falling agape, body going limp as a wilted flower. When he let go, her body collapsed to the floor with an empty, satisfying _thump._

She was dead now.

But their story doesn't end here.


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: Hey everyone! Thank you SO much for reading my story! Seriously, it makes me so happy to see people reading it.**

 **As you can see, I finally figured out how to write the next chapter. It's been a long time, and I seriously spent the entire time thinking to myself "How am I going to finish this story?!"**

 **Thank you for reading, and please let me know what you think in the reviews! ALL comments/criticism are welcome. :)**

It's darkness. Again.

Something she would have welcomed with open arms, had her recent situation not been so… peculiar.

She was in a state of sleep. Calm, hypnagogic sleep. Except that she was also awake. Aware. Confused.

And desperate.

Desperate to understand what was going on. Desperate to open up her eyes if they weren't open already, as she felt they were but couldn't see anything. Not to mention, she felt as if she'd been laying here forever.

Something definitely did feel… different, though. Although she couldn't place her finger on what exactly it was, something made her feel as if she had just been dragged through a dried up creek bed at warp speed.

That was the only thing she could feel, for a while, until something else broke through the dull, bored state of achy pain… the feeling of a hand suddenly laid quite gently atop her lower leg. The gentle touch had her quickly placed within a reverie as a sick child with her father near the end of the bed, a worried hand rested in the same position as this one. And as soon as it was there, it was gone.

Her eyes "opened" again, and she attempted to speak, although she wasn't sure if she was actually in a room of darkness, or just dreaming, or what. "Who's there?" Her voice shook, frightened.

No response. Except the hand trailed lightly, slowly upward. Its fingers no longer cradled the curve of her calf, but now slid upward, dragging carefully along her kneecap, dawdling for a moment there, and continuing its journey once again, before the warm hand cradled the flesh of her inner thigh.

She began to tremble. That new fear of the unknown crept back into her tormented brain. "Wake up," she moaned through gritted teeth. "Wake up, wake up!"

But her body did not obey her.

She knew now that this could not be just a dream. These feelings were all too real. Whatever owned the hand that continued to touch her responded to her cries by staring, unmoving for a moment, before reaching out another hand and stretching out its fingers to touch her face. She jumped visibly and was angered at the fact that she was able to move even that much, but not more.

She felt those fingers trace her neck, thoughtfully. They traced her skin there for a few moments, lingering, studying. She tried to recall why this might be a place of interest… what happened again?

The sudden visions and memories hit her full force, like a meteor striking the earth. A scream exploded from her vocal cords as her mind was assaulted once again by the horrific traumas of that which happened however long ago. She saw Claudette's fearful, bloodied face. She saw it change, twisted into one of excruciating pain. She saw her own hands, covered in scarlet, a knife within them. Large hands covering her own. And being wrapped in an embrace that she wasn't sure she welcomed. And before long, those large hands wrapped tightly around her neck. Effortlessly throttling out any spark of life that she'd had left.

Overcome with emotion and feelings, her scream fell short and was quickly replaced with traumatized sobs. Sobs that were reminiscent of those she'd created on the day her father died. How could she remember that? Why did she remember that?

Why does her life have to be so horrible?

She knew her hands were balled into fists. Every emotion and feeling that she had boiled inside of her, creating more and more tension as it searched for ways to get out. She was mostly paralyzed still, and these things escaped her in the form of a steady flow of tears, cascading down her face and into her hair.

Noticing this, the creature stepped closer to her, as she laid horizontally in front of it. She cried aloud as the hand came down sternly at the side of her face, all gentleness gone. The heel of that hand rested against her jawline, the fingers trailing up behind her ear and into her hair. It seemed as if some… voice? Were attempting to permeate the walls of her mind. She could almost hear it, almost make out what it was saying… but the only thing she could derive from it was the tone. A tone that firmly told her to stop fighting.

Her initial response to this realization was anger. Rebelliousness. "Fuck you," she thought, charged still with these overwhelming emotions. Until, suddenly…

Calmness. An easy, mellow, soothing calmness was sent through her body with a jolt. Shocked for a moment, her eyes shot wide open, and for a moment she saw that mask. That ugly, scary, vicious mask. But still, she was just… calm. She looked at him for a moment, past the arm that stretched down to gently but sternly cup her face, before her eyes fluttered lightly closed and her body began to release all its tension, resting comfortably in that dangerous embrace. It took a moment for her to realize that this was not natural. This was not her body receding back into a normal state of being. This was her mind being manipulated, played with, twisted and tricked into feeling something she was not truly feeling. And as soon as the realization hit her, Michael's hand drew back and she was once again tumped into an ocean of disoriented feelings.

 **See?**

Her mouth opened again and she let out a confused yelp.

 **It's easier when you do as you're told.**

But she was not that type of person. Not that type of girl. Not some malleable object to be experimented with. She hated this.

But she had no control.

Then it took her a moment to realize exactly the position she was in.

She remembered again, that first close encounter with Myers. All the times she'd seen him before that dreadful day on Lampkin Lane, and she'd had no idea the way her fate was twisted up within his. She remembered trodding up into that abandoned house, and stumbling across him there… sleeping? She still wasn't even sure. And there he was, this cold, cruel murderer, vulnerable and almost innocent in a state of what she thought to be unconsciousness. She remembered the way her eyes studied his masculine figure, the way her fingers delicately yanked that old zipper down, and the way she thirstily drank up the sight of his torso after having revealed it from that old, junky jumpsuit… how his body was like a gemstone being chipped away from the dirt.

She recalled all of this now, the same man standing before her, hovering above her. She prickled as the realization began to hit her…

The realization that she, now, was in the exact same position that he was in that day…

Except not by choice. And without the ability to move by her own free will.

She was being absolutely crushed by all of these factors. Her mental strength was beginning to crumble. And he could sense it.

A laugh. Was that a laugh? A deep and evil sound from deep within her mind, so deep it couldn't have come from her. A joyous expansion of spirit that she could _feel,_ that her mind and body were becoming enveloped in as its pieces were slowly being broken off, one by one. Piece by piece, that intrusion of personal space was getting closer and closer to overtaking her mind, body, and even her soul. Who knew that evil's presence was so permeating as this. As many times as she'd touched the killers, she had never felt this overwhelmed by their presence. As many times as they'd carried her, laughed in her face, chewed her neck, and even taken selfies with her… never before had one given her feelings like this.

She was so engulfed and entranced by the cold turned warm that bubbled up within her. Strange, strange feelings that her human mind simply could not comprehend. It was almost orgasmic. And as they were physically next to each other, Myers no longer even touching her, she could feel that presence, something worming its way deep inside herself. Once it finally broke through, some sort of a spiritual breath overcame her. She sucked it in, and held it. Her body and chest full as could be with tension that she wouldn't let go. Eyes open, seeing nothing.

But he could see. He could see what this was doing to her. He watched her eyes fly open again. Saw her muscles expand and contract, her fingers grasping at the air, toes stretching and curling. And finally, that huge breath of air was let go, billowing from her lungs and sending almost every human aspect of her soul out the door.

She fell back again, resting before him as she had moments ago. Except that she was now even farther away from who she was before. He could sense it.

Her fingers twitched at her sides. Her breath was once again calm and shallow, but the fear was still apparent within her quickly beating heart.

She found the strength to open her eyes on her own. Michael watched as her lids raised up lazily, and the crisp light of those blue eyes fell into the dark depths of his, and their auras danced ever closer to each other, even closer than they had before.

The Entity's commands suddenly brushed up within Michael's mind. The command that he not entwine the girl's spirit with his own. But he did not care. Why would he allow the Entity to claim his creation as its own? No, no, no. This girl was his. All his. The Entity could do nothing to stop that.

And so, without fear or caution, he continued to imprint himself upon the girl's newly awakened evil spirit. Finishing up the process of claiming her as his, strengthening the bond that had once been defined as a _maybe,_ which was now a _definitely._

At first, she did not know what was going on. In the beginning, she thought this was another awful trick, another form of torture regaled upon her by this hopeless realm of _Dead by Daylight._ She would have stopped it if she could. She'd have halted the process and chosen to stay a human, if she had the chance. She wanted to continue helping her friends, not the enemy. She might have had a romantic interest in Myers, but it was just a fantasy driven by her youthful lust and desire for some semblance of a romantic relationship. Right? Before this, that bond was intangible. Palpable, but intangible. But now, this tether was unbreakable. There was some kind of a hook inside her, now. Just as there was one within him, although incomplete. For the entirety of his life, it was to remain incomplete, without another piece in existence that could finish it. That is, until the day he decided to create his own. And here she was, that complimentary piece he had subconsciously yearned for for so long, lying before him, nearly set in stone.

A deep, humanlike sense of desire began to overcome him. A feeling that was surprisingly natural for him. A feeling he had experienced with her as she had finished with him, except that it was stronger now.

Those eyes were still lit upon him, conveying nothing except a sleepy sense of belonging. She appeared as if she could have been cuddled up in bed, comfortably snuggled between the sheets. He stepped closer, and her eyes followed him. She looked up at him, not making a sound. His head tilted ever so slightly as he studied her delicate features. Oh, how he was beginning to feel at that sweet, innocent look. It was a feeling that drew him even closer. Something about her was changing him, too.

But, don't worry; only slightly.

He stood near her head, now. Both his hands came forward and clasped the sides of her face. He bent over her and drew his face near, his heavy breaths coming and going. Her eyes still looked so gently at him, even though they were met with a certain, malevolent darkness. A darkness that didn't scare her so much anymore. Her mouth fell open ever so slightly at his touch and she gasped as she was pulled tenderly forward. Her head fell limply into his hand, never breaking eye contact as their breaths became even heavier, filled with yearning and desire. All she could think about was that time she'd first come close to him. The feeling of being enveloped by him. The entrancement of him deep inside her, physically and mentally. His mentality, so demanding, heavy, and controlling; but also certain, careful, and driven. All of these things that were so attractive to her, but she was separated by her instinctual human nature that kept her from realizing her true feelings. And for him, to remember that first time filled him with a sense of contentment that was unnatural to him, something he'd never known or understood except when lives were being snuffed out by his hands. Something he'd begun to crave as the time passed by, something he actually stressed over getting his hands on.

And now that stress was gone, melded once again into wants and desires.

One of her hands reached up and placed itself at the crook of his arm, between the elbow and forearm. An intimate gesture, silently begging him to pick up the pace and take her into his world once again.

She watched calmly as his hand raised up, grasping the mask between his fingers and yanking it off. She was surprised to see, though, that the mask remained upon his face. Then Michael came down once again, bringing his face closer to hers, and she gasped as she could actually feel his breath now coming onto her cheek. He bent even farther forward, one hand still caressing her face and the other finding itself rested comfortably at the curve of her waist. She gasped again when she felt bristly skin brush up against hers, and goosebumps formed all over her body as his breath cascaded over her cold, exposed neck, before it was met with the soft warmth of Michael's lips that were placed tenderly there for a moment, kissing her skin lightly and then grasping it gently between his teeth, then letting go all the same. Prickling from the immense feelings caused by his mind-numbing show of intimacy, she began to realize that Michael's powers were truly unknown, as she never considered that he might have the ability to conjure up an illusion the way he was doing now.

The girl nearly cried out in surprise, her head falling backward with passion, her back rising up from the surface she was laid on. Michael's hand quickly came down and slapped itself over her mouth. Her eyes flew open in shock, and she was startled by the mask staring down at her fervently.

 _ **Shh,**_ that omnipresent voice told her.

The hand at Mara's waist grasped at her skin roughly now. It moved about her body, calling forth another wave of goosebumps as it travelled beneath her shirt and up to the soft mounds of her breasts. His fingers danced over her already hard nipples, enjoying her arousal and savoring the way her body beckoned at his every touch.

He brought his face forward again, his lips floating mere centimeters before hers. She could still only see a mask although the illusion wasn't perfect, and she could almost see some of the face beneath. She knew he was teasing her. She brought her face forward in an almost desperate attempt to close the gap between their lips, as she so heavily desired to taste them. But he drew backward the slightest and she was unable to reach. He watched the disappointment write itself onto her features, and smirked inwardly, enjoying yet another form of control that he had over her.

Mara was becoming pleasantly surprised at Michael's newly unveiled expression of passion. She had never imagined for him to partake in a situation as intimate as this. But then again, she had never been given the chance to see what might go on beneath that mask. Although Myers was not entirely human, there was still human within him, allowing him the opportunity to enjoy the pleasures that come with finding a person whose being compliments yours.

And so once again, he came closer, his breaths deliciously falling over her lips before he closed the gap and pressed his lips to hers. Butterflies escaped through the girl's stomach as her hand flew up to hold the nape of his neck, and she let out a lovedrunk moan that was stifled against his succulent lips.

Immediately the force above her disappeared and she was left yearning again. Her eyes flew open in confusion to be met with an angry masked face and the feeling of a strong hand gripping her pointedly just below her chin, reminiscent of the way it had when he strangled her previously. His hand grasped her face firmly and he stared down at her wide eyes with anger. Why can't she fucking listen?

 **Don't. Make. A sound.**

She nodded her head fearfully up at him. He stared at her for a moment until he was satisfied that she'd truly understood.

Then he wrapped his hand around the back of her neck, pulling her upward into a sitting position and crashing his lips against hers once more. With their faces clasped together by the mouth in a long and passionate kiss, Michael's hands continued to work over her body, pulling her closer and separating her legs so he could rest comfortably between them. Once he'd found her in a comfortable position, both of his arms left her legs and wrapped around her at the back, settling at her lower back and pressing her body tightly into his. It was all she could do not to make a sound. He began moving forward onto her, forcing her slowly down onto her back and she laid back against the surface, Michael's hands exploring her thighs and grasping at her hips. Once again, she'd been enveloped by his presence. She loved the way his body felt pressed against hers. She loved the way it felt to be in control of nothing, only doing what he wanted her to do. And somehow, she loved the consequences she knew would come if she chose to disobey him. Because it meant he wanted her. Just as she wanted him.

Before long, Michael's breaths began to match hers, nearly panting with the animalistic wants that began to overcome him. His hips moved to and fro, escalating the situation as he gently buried his growing warmth into her pelvis. Her arms crossed around his neck, her face rested comfortably between his neck and shoulder.

Suddenly, he sat up from her, his hands coming down once again at her hips. He looked down at her as his fingers hooked around the waist of her pants, tugging them slightly downward. Her breath caught in her throat with anticipation.

The pants came down smoothly, without much resistance, underwear coming down along with it. In her human days, this would have made Mara writhe with discomfort, as she did not always enjoy being nude in front of a male's curious gaze. But in this instance, she was ready for it, and actually wanted it to happen. And so, she sat patiently as Michael's eyes wafted over her uncovered legs and what lay in between. She definitely seemed to have his attention; he brought his hand forward, fingers finding their way between her legs and softly trailing along her smooth lips before finding her sensitive clitoris. Her flew to her mouth to stifle any noises that might get her into trouble.

Oh, how surprised she was at the seductive touches she was receiving from this evil, frightening man. How amazed she was that he was capable of placing his hands upon her in such a way that had her reeling and fluttering all at the same time. She couldn't wait to receive more.

One hand held her leg apart, the other dancing around her extremities in a way that caused her to become hot, wet, and slick. He noticed this, one of his fingers falling even lower, slipping into her moistness and going all the way in, testing the waters before he did with her what he wanted.

When he removed himself from her, she felt cold once again. But not for long, as his hands rose up to the neck of his jumpsuit and tugged the zipper open, quickly and easily. He pulled his arms from the suit which now hung loosely around his waist, but low enough for him to pull out his hard erection.

Excitement danced around within her once again as she looked down hungrily at Michael's sexy body. Every ounce of him turned her on. Every curve of his muscle had her nearly drooling. Had he waited too much longer, she may have slid forward herself to take him in. But thankfully, she didn't have to, as he grasped her hips and pulled her roughly closer. She bit her lip in anticipation as she looked down at Michael's large hand grasping his hard cock, acquainting it with the warm, wet folds of her pussy.

Suddenly, his head was at her entrance, pushing into her, spreading her open like a new toy being torn from the plastic. She closed her eyes as the feeling overtook her and she tried once again not to make a noise. But it was hard. And it only became harder when he drew out of her, only to push back in even deeper than before. Her body tensed, her back rising up, shaky fingers grasping at Myer's muscled forearms. He looked down at her expressions mutely as he drew himself in and out, in and out, slowly. The way her head lolled to the side, the way her eyes rolled up into her head. The way she looked at him, eyes brimming over with unsatisfied desire. It was a look he'd never been given before, a look that filled him with an indescribable feeling of _want._ He continued to fuck her slowly, never once taking his gaze from her face, until finally the entirety of his length was pressed firmly inside her with a strong, deep thrust. Her head drew back, toes curled, back arching as she pressed herself into him, wriggling her hips around to derive even more pleasure from that feeling. He responded by pulling himself out once again, before slamming himself into her forcefully, causing her to scream aloud in both pain and pleasure.

Her scream was cut short by his hand flying down and encapsulating her mouth once again. He didn't stop though, and continued to bury himself again and again into her tight, wet opening. The sounds of his pelvis meeting her body quickly and forcefully filled the air around them. His hands found their way behind her knees, pushing her legs farther apart and closer to her face. This created a new sensation that drew them both closer in their escapade, entranced by hot, heavy pleasure. Mara's entrancement was fully fledged now, Michael could see that in her eyes as they gazed up at him sexily and hungrily. She wanted him to hurt her. She wanted him to do anything he wanted to her. That's what that look said.

His hand came up to meet her already bruised throat as he began to work harder, little by little. He could have finished this already, but again, he just wanted to savor this moment. He grasped her neck lightly, not cutting off air, but letting her know that he was in complete control. One of her hands had found her own breasts beneath the shirt and held onto it as she bounced up and down by the force of his cock burying itself deep inside her. He grabbed the end of the shirt and threw it upward so now her breasts were exposed, and his large hand grasped the other bouncing breast while he returned his eyes to match her bleary, dewy eyed gaze. Those eyes communicated that she wanted something more, but he wasn't sure what.

He bent forward, his face hovering so close to hers now. Once again she enjoyed the feeling of his breaths escaping onto her face as she wiggled her hips this way and that, meeting Michael's thrusts with precision that was building up a strong physical and emotional tension inside of her. The tension was shared as it grew and grew, Michael finally panting with exertion as he kissed and sucked at her lips tenderly, no longer attempting to stifle her weak little moans of satisfaction. He could feel her pussy adjusting itself with every thrust, tightening up every time he pushed himself as far inside of her as he could go. Every now and then, he would stop there at the end, when there was no more length to give, pressing impossibly harder still to touch her deepest places. In response she would cry out softly and wiggle her hips around his to enjoy the sensation even more. This throbbing, grinding, pushing, and pulling was beginning to send them both over the edge, and even Michael couldn't last much longer. Mara's legs began to tremble as her eyes opened, once again lighting upon Michael's. He held the gaze, and she couldn't see it but feel it, driving her crazy, pushing every other thought out of the window, as it was only her and Michael now.

Finally, Michael's torso rose up once again, his hands coming down to grasp her hips tightly. He held her fast in place but never once missed a stride in his thrusts. With every movement he pushed her body up, and pulled it back down, over and over, faster and faster, harder and harder, all the while staring into those cloudy blue eyes, until it could wait no longer. Beneath the mask his features fell as all his focus was now only on her, and that look in her eyes, and the way her body felt, tightly enveloping his hard, throbbing cock. Suddenly, he was exploding within her, and the feeling of his hot, sticky warmth spurting inside her as he continued to pound her hard sent her completely over the edge.

He looked down at her as she squirmed around on his dick, still overcome by the waves of intense orgasm. He was enjoying the way she looked with his cum dripping out from inside her. He pulled himself out, but not before drawing down to rejuvenate her with one more passionate kiss.

She lay there, unsure now of what to do, as the bloodthirsty killer straightened himself up and cleaned himself off. Her breaths were hard, fast and labored.

She lay there, as Michael approached her once again. He looked her up and down, studying her slightly sweaty body. A hand came down, and caressed her face once again, sending shivers of excitement up and down her spine. His thumb moved thoughtfully from side to side for a moment atop her skin. And then, just as he had appeared, he had gone again.

She was alone. Alone, but full of the sexual energy of an evil, monstrous entity.

An entity that she was now bound to, for the rest of her life.


	7. Chapter 7

**Content warning: brief mention of rape. I would also like to apologize for giving Michael a voice. I know it seems OOC but it gives me so much more to work with. When I read other fanfictions if I don't like something I just change it in my mind. If you don't like him talking just pretend he's not! :-) Or whatever works for you. Thank you!**

 _A soft breeze gently kisses the earth, ruffling blades of grass and causing leaves to sway softly along with them. The girl breathes the beautiful nature in gratefully through her nose, relishing the crispness of the air. The Sun bares down on her nicely, warming her skin and blessing her with the wonderful feeling of contentment and happiness._

 _She loves being out here, in the country. She loves the animals that she drives past. Loves the old, rotting homes so full of character. She wonders what goes on within them._

 _She was always one that enjoyed taking risks. She liked to be scared. Liked to be in certain forms of trouble. Liked to go where most people wouldn't dare._

 _So, she loved to drive out in the country and explore these old, abandoned homes. Homes with boarded up windows, dirty floors, debris and trash scattered about. She always wondered what happened here before her, and wondered how recently the places were abandoned. In one, there were kindergarten and elementary school certificates littered about a sparkly pink bedroom, a huge hole in the floor. In another one, an odd briefcase that had something jingly inside, but the clasps were rusted shut. And in yet another, she was startled at the end of a black hallway when she opened a bedroom door, and by the light of her phone, saw a mangled animal corpse. Its skeleton lay on its side, and somehow an inch of gray fur was still puffed around the very end of its skeletal tail. Somehow, this didn't stop her from pressing forward, into the nasty, decrepit bathroom. Black and brown stains covered the toilet that was full of some form of shit. The bathtub was littered with a mixture of the same substance and some drywall pieces. The mirror on the wall was shattered to sharp fragments of glass. She wondered how these things ever ended up happening. Mirrors don't smash themselves._

 _Only one room left to explore, now…._

 _She leaves the dead cat room, and pushes the door open to the next._

 _She is met with the wild eyed glare of a man standing just before her. There is no time to react before she is grabbed and slung around, thrown to the floor atop a pile of plastic and garbage. She screams aloud, terror filling her body as she tried to jump up quickly. But she wasn't fast enough and the man had the advantage. His greasy, straggly hair was splayed about his head in an oily mess. She was disgusted at just the sight of him._

 _Suddenly, from his pocket the man drew a pocket knife._

 _"No!" she screamed, before the knife whistled through the air, slashing merely an inch from her nose._

 _She scrambled backwards on the ground, attempting to gain proper footing before her back met the wall. Her hands flew up to protect her face at the precise moment the knife came whistling through the air once again, slashing open the palm of her hand. She yelped in pain, grasping her hand with the other. Tears began cascading down her face as she looked up at the man who had her cornered now. And in the doorway she could see another pale face peeking out at her; a woman, just as mangled and gross as the man who stood before her._

 _"Help me," Mara cried to the woman. Her gaze was quickly averted as she slunk from the doorway._

 _All the hope left Mara's body as the man grinned at her through brown, slimy teeth. "Stumbled into the wrong place, didn't ya girl?"_

 _-_

 _The sound of an elderly woman humming a soft tune fills a calm and placid home nestled within the hills of a small town. She stands at her countertop, preparing a sandwich for herself before plopping down in front of her old television. She takes a bite of the sandwich, flipping the TV on, her eyes settling down over the pretty face of a young news reporter._

 _"...early this morning detectives are scrambling to find the criminal responsible for the brutal rape and murder of this young woman…_ " _An image of a young girl flashes upon the screen, and the elderly woman's sandwich falls from her hands, tumbling softly to the ground and disassembling itself upon the carpet. The report continues. "Mara Dyer's body was found at approximately four A.M. this morning as a local passerby noticed a car parked for hours at an abandoned house. Deputies assume that the attack occurred about three P.M. yesterday."_

 _The words began to fade away._

 _The world began to crumble around her._

 _Her only grandchild… gone. Forever._

Mara jolted awake once again in the dark room as the memory forced her from a light slumber. Her memories cascaded around in her brain, confusing her as to where she was now, before she remembered what had transpired not too long before.

Her mind was reacquainted with the memories of warm, controlling hands. Deep, dark, demanding looks that melted her from the inside out. A hard body that pressed against her and drew out every bit of emotion that lay within her.

Gone now. Where was he?

The area around her began to change suddenly. The dark mist that surrounded her began to create shapes, spinning and twirling around her in a way that was dizzying. She closed her eyes in order to stay straight, and when she opened them, she was somewhere else entirely.

It was a dark den, a cavelike area that she'd only ever seen in movies. All she could see around her were dark, inky blacks that could contain anything within them, jagged, burgundy stones that jutted this way and that. And nothing else, until a massive spider-like mound began to move and crawl down from the ceiling. Its massive form scared her to death and she fell to the ground as she attempted to jump quickly backward.

Then its voice spoke to her, just as slimy and serpentine as one would imagine from a creature like this. And finally, she realized who she was speaking to.

The Entity.

It laughed at her at first, amused by her genuine display of fear. Oh, how the Entity loved that kind of attention, that it didn't receive very often. "Ah, yes, if it isn't the new addition to our… _family."_ It said the last word dripping with a tone that told her the Entity did not appreciate its "family".

When it said no more, Mara stood up, confused. "What do you mean? I know who you are. You are _not_ my friend, or my family."

The Entity chuckled once more, and Mara wondered if there ever was a human cradled within that ugly body. "I didn't say we were friends, little girl. But we share the same blood now. How does it feel to be…" it looked at her, its bone-chilling gaze falling upon her frightened face. "...a killer now?"

Anger welled up inside Mara as the creature played with her emotions. It knew that she didn't want to be called that. It knew that she still had a good heart, even if hers had suddenly been consumed by evil. There was no way to completely stamp out good or evil once it lies within.

"Ready darling? Go on! Have fun!"

She could only stare at the creature for a split second before the ground opened up beneath her and she fell screaming into a pit of blackness. As she fell, her heart escaped into her throat and for a moment she thought to cry out for Michael. _Save me, Michael!_ She nearly screamed. But as his masked face crossed into her vision, she knew he could do nothing to help her now. She was quickly being transported somewhere else.

As soon as she landed and found her bearings, the sights of her environment were immediately recognizable. Rocks. Leaves. Bushes. All scattered about beneath an eerie, bluish moonlight…

 _Wow,_ she thought to herself. _Another damned trial? Fuck my life._

And so, she began moving throughout the map, her eyes casting about for any of her teammates. She searched around for any sight of her friends, wishing to find Meg or Claudette as soon as possible so she could tell them all about what had transpired since she last saw them.

Finally, after coming across absolutely no one, she settled down in front of a generator. She was surprised that she had seen none of her teammates so far, and decided to sit down and be of some help until she eventually found them. So, she placed her hands atop the cold generator, and began working. That is, she tried to begin working, until little strings of the Entity's arms grew from it and began twisting around her fingers, causing her to fumble around with the pieces, effectively getting herself nowhere for a few minutes. Confused, she eventually left the generator as she heard one pop not too far off in the distance. She began to stalk off after it, finally catching a glimpse of her red-haired friend, Meg.

Quickly, Mara trotted up to meet her. She must not be paying much attention, because she was running really fast. Thankfully, Mara was catching up to her quickly. But then, Meg dashed to a window in a sudden burst of speed, grabbing it with her hands and deftly vaulting herself over it.

Only a few feet away, Mara stopped in her tracks and stared, now thoroughly confused. Survivors onlyfast vault when the killer is behind them, not their teammates…

Then the Entity's sneering voice rung out within her mind once again. _"How does it feel to be a killer now?"_

And it all came crashing down on her.

These are no longer her friends.

These are her enemies.

"No," she said aloud, still standing there before the window Meg had just vaulted through. "No!" she screamed again, now staring up at the empty sky, imagining the Entity up there looking down at her. "These are my friends! I will _not_ kill them!"

And with that, she continued to take off after the Meg. This time, she had resolved to catch her and explain herself. Explain that she had been corrupted and she needed help getting this evil out of her, somehow, some way. Mara just didn't care. She didn't want to be a killer.

Meg hadn't gotten far, and Mara began to notice the way she could tell where her teammate had just been running by the bright red scratch marks that led directly to where she was crouched behind a rock. _So that's why it's so easy to catch us sometimes,_ she thought to herself, having never known about the scratch marks before. Finally, she reached the rock that she was sure Meg hid behind. She turned the corner with a friendly smile on her face, to let her friend know that she was not here to hurt her. But just as she came around the side, her mouth opened in hopeful greeting to her friend, a heavy wooden pallet came crashing down over her head and she yelped in pain and surprise.

That kind of ticked her off, no lie.

But not enough to make her want to murder a friend.

She continued chasing after the Meg who was a good way away from her now, but she was also around the perimeter of the map, making her easier to find. Just as Meg turned to crouch behind yet another rock, a dark shape suddenly came into view from the distance.

 _That's Michael!_

There he was, his unbelievably fast gait never exceeding from a walk as his eyes were set very clearly on Meg, who apparently did not see him coming. Mara ran toward him, an excited smile on her face as she was so happy to see him now. She closed about half of the distance before she saw Meg dash from behind the rock, her hand clasped painfully at her side. Michael appeared from the other side of the rock once again, effectively mind gaming her and slashing her right at the throat.

Mara wasn't happy to see Meg hit so brutally, but she was joyed to see that as soon as he had downed her friend, he turned to face her. And then began walking toward her. She was happy still, until something told her that something was very wrong. Something about the way he was approaching her. Somehow, without even seeing his eyes, she could sense what he was feeling. That air around him was so strong, and he came upon her so quickly. She stopped in her tracks, the smile from her face falling, as she realized that he was nothappy with her.

Once he came close enough he did not stop and Mara was thrown backward with a strong punch right to the abdomen. "Oof!" she cried in shock as she came crashing to the ground. She lifted her torso up onto her elbow, her confused eyes rising up to meet Myers', fear filling her heart as she could sense the anger that was ebbing off of him.

He crouched above her, bringing himself down to her level before grasping her roughly by the hair at the back of her head. He shook her sternly and she began to feel like a girlfriend in a very abusive relationship. He brought her face close to his and she could imagine the expression he must be wearing beneath that mask: eyes slitted yet slightly open, mouth pursed and turned down at the ends.

That permeating voice broke strongly into her mind. **I did not make you a part of me so you can make friends with survivors.**

She stared up at him for a moment like a teenager receiving a good scolding. Then his strong arm came down and he grasped her bicep, yanking her upward to stand beside him. He dragged her forward and she stumbled along in an attempt to keep up with him, her legs jogging as he merely walked. They were closing in on Meg who was still laid on the ground, until she suddenly jumped up right in front of them and dashed away. As soon as she'd done this, Michael let go of Mara and shoved her forward, gesturing with his knife to take off after her.

But she didn't. Instead, defiantly, she turned to face Michael. Looked up at his mask. Put her hands on her hips.

"No." The word that came from her mouth sounded a lot stronger than she felt.

A moment passed by. Two. Three. The two stared at each other, stubbornly. Michael seeming somewhat shocked at her overt display of disobedience. Who do you think is going to win?

Quickly, Michael grabbed her once again. This time by the collar of her shirt. He yanked her toward him, and then whipped around, dragging her with him before slamming her violently against the wall of a nearby shed. He lifted her upward so her feet dangled from the ground, her face merely inches from his.

They stayed there for a moment, looking at each other. Michael's head tilted slightly. _What a shame,_ he thought to himself. _For my chosen human of interest to disobey me so._

She expected him to hit her again. Or cut her. Or strangle her. All the things that were likely to come from this bloodthirsty man. But none of those things came. Instead, a soft touch at the side of her cheek, caressing her face as he seemed to enjoy doing. He was indeed captured by her sweet, innocent stare that was now framed by the beautifully dark, sunken eyes of a dead woman, complimented by the deep brown and blue bruises that were now forever etched into the skin of her neck. He liked this look on her better. But then, as those feelings began to flutter around within them both, his hand raised up and clasped warningly around her neck. With the other hand, he used the tip of his blade to trail it along her skin, lightly but threateningly, catching around the shirt at her hip before moving it to the skin of her arm. She watched the knife shine in the cool moonlight, leaving a definite line where it had traced her skin.

The knife was in her face, now. Threatening her. He used it smartly, dancing the tip around right in front of her eyes before pressing it hard against the softness of her lips. She cringed fearfully, her feet beginning to kick in protest.

 **Do as I say, or I will end you.**

Just as she had as when he forced her to quiet down in the past, she nodded her head. Even if she felt close to him, and felt as if she cared about him, he still scared her. She still wasn't sure if he was actually willing to remove her from the world that he'd brought her into. He stared at her for a moment once again before stepping back from her, allowing her to fall to the ground before him. She came to a standing position and looked at him, uncertainly, before stepping around him and taking off after Meg.

Her mind was desperately searching for every possible way to avoid committing this act. She didn't want to upset Michael, and she didn't want to be killed, but she didn't want to kill her friend either. She threw a glance over her shoulder as she moved through the forest, and could see Michael back there, watching her. The feeling of that cold gaze gave her a shiver still, along with a flurry of unidentifiable feelings that stirred within her, caused simply by knowing that he had his watchful eyes on her.

Within moments she happened upon Meg once again, and she watched the girl she considered a friend run fearfully away from her. This loss of friendship was clouding Mara's mind with intense feelings of sadness and dismay. She didn't want the survivors to run from her; it hurts!

So she followed the girl, and as soon as she was close enough, she reached out a strong hand and grasped Meg's arm as gently as she could. But with the force of Meg running away and Mara pulling her backward, the two women crashed together and rolled to the ground. They landed beside each other and within moments Meg was already scrambling up to her feet to run again. But Mara was fast to reach out another hand and grab her by the ankle, dragging her backward.

Meg fought harshly. Mara always knew her to be a feisty woman, but she had never seen her from a killer's perspective. Considering that's the side she was on now, she felt a bit scared at the way Meg growled and fought against her grip. Mara jumped on top of the woman, straddling her by the hips and holding her arms down at the sides of her face.

"Meg, chill out!" she plead with her friend helplessly. "Meg, listen to me! Seriously, please!" Meg continued to struggle beneath her, so Mara kept talking in hopes that she would hear the sincerity of her words. She threw a quick glance over her shoulder to see Michael watching her still ominously from a few yards away. He wouldn't be happy with this, but she didn't care. She looked back down at the struggling woman. "Listen, Meg. Remember the last time we saw each other in that trial? When Michael left me on the floor of the basement while you struggled on the hook?" A quick flash of Meg's eyes meeting her own told Mara that she was indeed listening. "Well, Michael murdered me in a way that brought me into the killer's realm… and I need to get out! Please, I love you and the rest of the survivors. I'm your friend and I need your help to get out of this!"

Mara stared down at her friend, her eyes wide and pleading.

"FUCK YOU, BITCH!"

"Ah!" Mara screamed as Meg's arm shot out from her grip, clasping a nearby rock in her hand and slashing Mara's face with it. Instinctively Mara sat up, her hands flying to her face as Meg squirmed out from beneath her, taking off again into the cold forest.

Tears sprang up in Mara's eyes as the woman ran away from her again. Her hand clasped her face in disbelief. Then, heavy footsteps pounded up behind her and Michael strode past, knife hoisted high in the air. She sat there still as he caught up to Meg not too far away, the knife coming down onto her swiftly, sending her sprawling on the ground with a cry of pain. Mara rose up to her feet now as Michael bent over the young woman, grasping her by the neck, and holding her high in the air.

"No!" Mara screamed, sprinting towards him, but she was too late.

The knife pierced through Meg's throat as her arms reached out to punch and flail at Michael's face, her hands weakly slapping at his shoulders while he stared into her suffering eyes, emotionless. She gurgled and choked on the knife that stung her throat before the life left her eyes and she went limp within Michael's grasp, and he tossed her to the ground like a worthless piece of trash.

Moments later, Michael was met with a flurry of flying limbs and the ear grinding whines of a hysterical woman that had sprinted up to him in an attempt to stop the gruesome act. He looked down at his side at Mara who stood nearly a foot below him in height. Her eyes were wild with anger, sadness, and helplessness. Her fists flew up to beat at his chest like a toddler throwing a tantrum.

"Why Michael, why!" she screamed at him. "Why did you turn me into a monster?!" she cried. Her voice even sounded different.

Michael wasn't one to listen to the anguished cries of an unhappy woman. If it were anyone else, he'd have simply Moried them too. But this was a woman that now held a special place within his mind. As he looked down at her, unleashing all of her emotions on him, he decided to take it, something he had never done before. All the women he had encountered in the past were dealt with in the same way he'd just handled the Meg; murdered and disposed of without a second thought. But somehow, within his cold, dead heart he found a feeling of compassion for the girl who was crying at him now. He looked down at her coolly, allowing her to take out all of her anger on him. Those fists couldn't possibly hurt him as they pounded lightly at his chest and shoulders. But before long, he reached out his hands and grasped the girl by her shoulders, stilling her. She looked back up at him, tears rolling down her cheeks. The redness of her eyes set out the blue of her irises in a stark, beautiful contrast. Words that had never before reached him flooded into his mind. He cupped her face within his large, deadly hands once again.

 **I wanted you to be mine.**

He felt his thoughts penetrate her mind, and by the look that flashed over her eyes, he knew that she heard him.

 **You are mine. I won't be giving you up.**

There was no response for a moment. Until finally, she spoke.

"I don't want to kill my friends, Michael. I don't want to be a killer. I can't. It's not me. Please change me back!"

 **What's done is done.**

He turned from her now, away from that pleading gaze that had begun to tug on his heart strings. He was never a selfless man, but something about him didn't want to see her so torn to pieces. He was not consumed by the wish to please her, but as she begged him to change her life once again, he almost felt bad for what he had done to her. Then that possessive selfishness took over again, and he just didn't care. As long as she belonged to him, he didn't care. She'd move on soon enough.

Then he stalked off, turning his back to the woman who had already changed him so, before she could change him any more.

He stalked off to finish the job she wouldn't.


	8. Chapter 8

Once again, Mara found herself placed in the dark, dreary depths of some sort of cave. She shivered at the moist, chilly air surrounding her. But she didn't only shiver from the cold; she shivered from fear as she stood before Michael and the Entity, both who stared at her with expressions unreadable. She knew they were not happy.

"That performance was absolutely unacceptable," spoke the Entity, its nasty claws clicking in disdain. "Should this ever happen again, I will be sure that you regret it. Heed my words, mortal; Michael taking you under his wing is a blessing for you. I would suggest that you learn to accept this fact, or your next life will not be as good as this one."

Mara stayed silent in response, but nodded her head guiltily. She glanced to Michael who she knew was staring at her. What did that gaze say, beneath the expressionless mask? For the moment she couldn't tell, although she was sure it was nothing good.

They were released to meander about within this dark, dirty plane of existence. Mara wasn't surprised to see that the Entity allowed its killers to live in this shit hole. Compared to the woods the survivors sat around in while waiting for trials, this place was a dump. There wasn't much to look at, and nothing stimulating going on. The only option she had to entertain herself was to wander through these dreary cave-like hallways.

And so she did that, her mind full to the brim with nervousness, worry, and confusion. Her life had changed so much within this last period of time. She went from being a normal survivor, to a killer's pet, and then to a killer. All these changes had her so confused about who she was. She still wasn't sure of which side to plant her foot on, although she was slowly letting go of the survivor within her. From what she could tell, nothing would take this evil that now lay within her heart. And if she didn't act upon the Entity's wishes, it would definitely kill her, potentially banning her to a realm even worse than this one. Images of the scenes from the _Divine Comedy_ sprang up within her brain; starved, lifeless bodies all stacked against each other, cramped together in hell. She shivered once again. That's a fate that she simply could not risk.

A male voice suddenly surprised her from her reverie. "Uh oh-oh, what do we have here?" She turned to her right to see two members of the Legion sat upon the ground, some disheveled mess of a card game spread out between them. The two stood up and she could see now who they were: Frank and Joey. Instincts kicked in and she nearly ran from them, before remembering she was considered one of them now.

"Hey," Joey said as he stepped closer to her. "I remember this girl…"

Mara stepped back as they approached, cautious as she knew she could not trust the two.

"Me too… that bitch is a survivor!" shouted Frank once he realized who he was looking at.

" _Was_ a survivor," she responded pointedly, hoping that she didn't appear too scared. Her arms crossed defensively over her chest.

"Once a survivor, always a survivor," Joey sneered. The two men now stood directly in front of her, and she could feel that something was about to happen. Something bad. But she stood her ground, tense.

As with animals, she figured that if she ran now, they would immediately give chase. But if she stayed and held her ground, maybe they would leave her alone.

Joey crossed his arms before him and looked her up and down in a way that made her skin crawl. "Alright then, miss Change of Heart. Show us what you've got."

She wasn't exactly sure she knew what he meant, but she felt like she had a good idea. "I don't know what the fuck you're talking about, but I have no business with the likes of you." She took a step backward, still facing them. The sense of dread was growing in her belly now, and her fight or flight reflexes were kicking in. But still, she stood strong.

There was no response, and everything was silent for a moment. Until Frank lurched forward, his fingers finding her hair and yanking her toward him while Joe grabbed her arms from behind. She began to scream loudly, thrashing about and attempting to shake herself free. But they both had a tight hold on her. The three of them wrestled on the ground before finally Mara was laid on her back with not enough room to move. Joey's hands held her arms above her head while Frank straddled her legs together. The two men looked at each other for a moment above the struggling girl with a smirk that said they were up to no good. Mara's chest heaved up and down, up and down, her heart beating fast with adrenaline. She looked up at the murderers that hovered above her. "What the fuck is wrong with you?!" she screamed, her voice sounding desperate and demonic.

Then Frank's hands found their way to the bottom of her shirt, lifting it up above her breasts, revealing the dark bra she had died in. Mara continued to thrash about. "Stop! Please, you _fucking assholes!"_

Joey laughed aloud at her exclamation. "Looks like we've got a fighter."

She struggled against the arms that held her down, pushing as hard as she could and baring her teeth. Finally a tear cascaded down her cheek as she began to realize her defeat.

 _I hate my fucking life._

Suddenly, a spurt of warm liquid splattered all over her face. Her eyes closed at the impact and flew back open again when she realized her hands had been let free. She sat up straight as quickly as she could and was face to face with Frank, the freak's hands still wrapped around her hips as he stared up past her head. But then he fell backward on his butt, scrambling farther away from her as he stared fearfully at something that loomed just behind her. She stood up and whipped around to face whatever was behind her to see Michael, bloodied knife in hand, towering above Joey who was struggling away below him. Joey clutched his chest where there appeared to be a large knife wound. She gasped as he stepped forward and she jumped out of the way in time for him to brush past her toward Frank. Frank sprang up from the ground deftly before abandoning his friend as he sprinted past Michael, nearly knocking Mara to the ground and causing her to stumble into the man who had just saved her from another awful scene of torture. She stared dumbfounded at the serial killer who stood before her, not moving an inch. A quiet, choked sob rose up into her chest and her mind crumpled in on itself. Without thinking, she dashed forward and out of the area they stood in. She bumped into Michael on her way past, whose arm was pushed back by the impact, and he turned to watch her leave.

Mara's anguished sobs echoed through the chambers of her newly discovered prison. She had run as far as she could, even passing a few other killers as she ran, but she did not stop until she felt she was far enough away that no one would easily find her. And so, she sat on the ground, head in hands, emotions crashing around her brain like waves that dizzied her and made her feel sick. Thoughts of everything bad about her life so far, from the memories of her painful death, her undefined relationship with Michael Myers, and suddenly being attacked and abused by those who were supposedly on her team now. At least as a survivor, she could rest in between trials and discuss things with the others. There was a camaraderie, some friendships, a sense of belonging. But now, she couldn't feel safe at all, surrounded by those who had induced her suffering for so long.

Except for Michael. Except for the control he had over her now, with his domineering, deep-rooted spirit that stirred things deep inside of her. This… _monster_ that she should be scared of, that she _is_ scared of, but craves to be around all the same. What he had done to her, and what he had done for her. He had plucked her from the last grasp of sanity that she had left, crushing it into a million pieces without a second thought. He'd handled her violently, mutilating her body many times, causing her mind-numbing amounts of physical pain. And there was the mental torture as well. The confusion. The grief. The loss. Every single thing she had experienced since that one fateful trial, on top of the hell her life had already become. All caused by him. But then there was the comfort of it, too. The comfort of his watchful eye that actually cared about her in some way that she couldn't understand yet. Knowing that through this torture and pain, he was still there to catch her at the end of the day. She was still bound to him through some hook that had been created inside herself. She felt some semblance of safety at the thought. She could feel it now, permeating.

As her puzzled thoughts continued to flounder over her feelings for Michael, her hands fell from her face and she drew herself to a stance. Her hands were now clutched at her sides, head hanging forward in defeat. Almost as if she were sleepwalking, her legs began to carry her forward. Slowly, step by step. Her thoughts were clouded but her vision was full of that masked face, and in her ear she could almost hear and feel his breaths coming out in hot waves over her neck and shoulder. Then his hands as they settled at the curves of her waist. Entranced, she wandered past the damp, ugly walls. She passed the same killers that she had before, who paid her no mind as she moved like a spirit about the place, until she found herself back where Michael stood, waiting for her.

Finally her head drew up and she looked at him tiredly. That cozy feeling of comfort wafted up within her and her heart sank somewhere within her chest. As if in a daze, she stumbled forward and threw her arms around the killer's neck. Her head rested drowsily against his firm chest and a few strands of her hair fell over her face. He stood there for a moment, simply feeling the girl's embrace. He could feel that she was not only leaning on him physically, but mentally as well. Never before had another's soul rested entwined with his, but at the moment, he did not mind and accepted the gesture as a compliment.

Then his arms reached down and he bent forward, scooping her up with his hands knotted beneath her butt. Her legs hoisted themselves naturally up around his waist as she gasped in surprise. He began to move to another side of the room, taking a seat and allowing her to sit in his lap facing him. Her left arm was still drawn up around his shoulder while her right hand was pressed lightly against his face. Their faces were so close that their noses were nearly touching.

Mara breathed out quietly, emotional tears stinging at her eyes. She stroked Michael's face slowly, searching for the words she wanted to say. She stared into his eyes as a tear fell from her own. "Thank you, Michael."

Her head fell forward and rested against his. She took a moment to calm herself, her emotions still running high. Michael thought back to the previous trial, when she had so hysterically ran up to him, cursing him and hating him for making her who she was now. And here she was, sitting in his lap, crying sweet _thank yous_ in his ear _._ If he was a human, he'd have smiled. But he wasn't. Although that didn't keep him from enjoying the moment, relishing these feelings that he had never discovered before. He had never felt a bond like this one, not since he was a child and his mother loved him. It was groundbreaking for him.

He reached up with his hand, grasping Mara's face and pulling it forward. Her eyes closed as her lips met with his in a fervent embrace. She breathed in heavily through her nose, straightening up and pulling her body forward on Michael's lap. Her back straightened as she pressed her chest into his, her tongue snaking from her mouth and tasting Michael's. There was a sudden spark between them that jolted Mara's heart.

Michael's hand moved up to caress her waist and her hips as she moved them about on top of him. His fingers began to grasp at her skin, pulling at her hips as he was becoming inflamed with his feelings for her. She finally broke away from her kiss and sat up, nearly gasping with her forehead pressed to his. Both her arms wrapped around his neck now and his arms tightened possessively around her waist. They sat still for a moment, Mara searching desperately for the words she needed to say.

"I just don't understand this," she breathed, trying not to sob. She prayed he was listening and understanding. "I don't understand… you." She looked carefully, almost fearfully into his eyes. "This… bond that we have now."

He stared back at her for a moment before reaching a hand up to the back of her neck, pulling her forward for another kiss, but she dodged his lips and pulled backward again. Surprised, he allowed her to sit up and look at him with those innocent eyes once again.

"Talk to me Michael," she begged. "Please."

A moment passed before the voice rang clearly within her mind, deep and stern.

 **You don't need to understand.**

She pouted visibly and her wide eyed beg nearly broke him.

He stood up quickly and Mara nearly tumbled from his lap, barely managing to steady herself against him as she came down. She found her balance and looked up at the man who was standing very close to her. His hands raised to clasp her face within them, steadying her and staring closely into her eyes. She screamed as demonic, evil sounds erupted within her ears and attempted to jump backward. She was suddenly filled with an intense fear, having caught a glimpse of the terrifying demon that was a part of his very being. Michael's arms encircled her again and she was held fast in place, trembling against him. The sounds faded within moments and she was no longer looking at the depravity that existed within him. But she had seen it. And it shook her on grounds that she couldn't describe.

And she was being held within its arms now. She shook within his grasp, too afraid to look back up into his eyes again.

Michael had not intended for her to see that side of him. But with tension running high in the air, evil was bound to eventually erupt into the physical world by means of its vessel. That is why she had become so frightened; a window had been pushed open and she'd accidentally caught a glimpse of his wicked soul. An evil strong enough to have her captured in its grasp with just a look.

And she was bound to it now. Although not as strong as his, evil lived within her too. She could feel it inside of her. Twisting and churning with excitement as she stood so close to a being so powerful as him. That hook within her gleaming and burning, empowered by the bond between them. She was merely an extension of his power. She was beginning to realize that, and beginning to like it.

Her mind was becoming cloudy again. His fingers brushed at her temples with a certain motion that had her thoughts twirling. She breathed a gust of air as she fell into a dreamy daze. She thought back to the last trial, remembering her long chase with Meg. She remembered the way she pleaded on top of her with every fiber of her being. And Meg had responded coldly. Cruelly.

 _FUCK YOU, BITCH!_

Meg's words rang out distantly within Mara's mind and a fierce anger exploded within her. She was becoming overcome with rage, her eyes seeing red for the first time in her life. _If I see that bitch one more time I swear to god I'm going to fucking mutilate her…_

Her fingers were balled into fists, her nails biting into her skin. Her teeth ground back and forth. Michael's fingers continued to sway gently over her temple, looking down at her completely focused.

 _If it's the last thing I do, she's going to die by my hand. And it won't be quick._

"She's going to _SUFFER!"_

Michael stepped swiftly backward as the girl screamed those last words into his chest, and she quickly vanished into dark frays of a frothy black mist.


	9. Chapter 9

The happenings of late had every survivor on the edge.

Everyone was more nervous than usual. That uncertainty had sunk its teeth deep into the heart of every one of Mara's old friends. Claudette was nervous. Meg was afraid. Dwight was nearing a panic attack. And Jake was just doing the best he could to stay calm.

No one knew if this was a new turn in their lives as survivors. No one knew if they'd be turned murderer soon, too.

The _Dead by Daylight_ realm was otherwise calm, quiet, and restful. Any visitor would be unaware of the amounts of torture and bloodshed that were committed around here.

And so the survivors sat in their comfortable, almost homey forest area surrounded by tents, stumps and logs to sit on, and a fire.

The four aforementioned survivors were sat around the fire, glancing at each other worriedly.

"She was trying to talk to me the last time I saw her," Meg continued the conversation. "She said something about Michael turning her? And that she was afraid and she needed my help. But I couldn't trust her. I didn't believe her. She's different now."

Dwight chewed his nails, deep in thought. "I guess it could be a trick…"

"It's probably not a trick," Jake finally spoke up. "Have you ever heard a killer plead with you for help? If Mara cried to you, Meg, it's probably true that she never wanted to be a killer in the first place. But how could we possibly help her? What could we even do?"

Each survivor shook their heads in thought.

"There's nothing we can do," Meg spoke surely. "I say we forget about her. Leave her. She's a killer now and I'm certain we'll all find ourselves knowing that without a shadow of a doubt here before too long."

Jake gritted his teeth and stared at the side of Meg's face angrily. Is that what she wants to do? Just give up on their old friend?

"Is that what you'd like for us to do for you, if you get turned killer?" he asked her coldly.

Meg didn't have a response and simply crossed her arms over herself defensively.

 _That's what I thought,_ Jake thought to himself as he shuffled away from the fire and his unmotivated team mates. Anger and worry twinged at his heart, even more than it did the others. How can they just forget about her? How can they forget about all the times their altruistic teammate lost her life in order to save them? How many times had Mara taken the last hit and lost the match so all three of her teammates could survive? That was something he just couldn't forget.

And then, those times when it had just been him and her. He always loved working next to her. If he ever found himself on a generator next to Mara, he found his mind awhirl with fantasies of talking to her in a private conversation anywhere they could be alone, like two regular people. Considering the close quarters of the survivors, they never got much alone time, and so he never managed to have a conversation with only her. He cursed himself now for not trying any harder than he had. This loss was hitting him hard. It was as if he had lost a lover, even though she had never been made aware of his feelings. Images of her flashed within his memory. The dark hair, her soft smile. How she'd always offer help. One time she'd seen him bleeding profusely and attempting to escape the chase of the killer behind a rock. She'd thrown down her expensive medkit a few feet away from him, and jumped right in front of the Doctor, hardly dodging that long metal rod that was always threatening their lives. He thought back on that instance now, smiling to himself appreciatively and admiring her bravery.

But that smile faded when he remembered her now. He had seen her in that last match, and he did not like what he saw. He was mortified by the dark hand-shaped bruises that wrapped around her neck. The slits and slices that now adorned her arms and part of her tattered shirt. She really did look like a killer now, but he could still see the Mara inside.

And Michael. How he hated that fucker for doing this to her. He could imagine himself taking that butcher knife and slamming it down into the monster's throat, giving him what he deserved. But he knew this was a fantasy he would never get to experience.

He settled down, head in his hands, and breathed a deep sigh. His favorite team mate taken from him. He wanted her back.

oooo 

Meg's feet crunched quietly along in the grass surrounding Lampkin lane. Her mind was mostly empty, her body carrying out its actions by muscle memory instead of being driven by active thought.

Her fingers fumbled about the insides of a generator that began huffing and turning by the energy she was putting into it. It slowly clunked to life, its pistons raising and lowering like lungs taking short, rapid breaths.

Before long, a chill ran up her spine and she could sense something approaching, although she could not hear it.

Within moments after she decided to ignore that feeling, she was yanked backward by a force strong enough to rip her from the generator and onto the ground. She screamed aloud and glanced up at the pale, washed out face that glared down at her.

It was Mara.

Her dark hair laid out in angry wisps about her face. Eyes that used to be blue had turned a fearsome orange/red that glowed with anger. She had deep, dark bruises formed around her neck which she had been told came from Michael's murderous hands as he strangled her. She shuddered inwardly at the thought, imagining Mara's frail body being mangled by that monster. Then she gasped in fear as those wide eyes penetrated her soul in the way that killers' sometimes do. She attempted to wriggle free of the grasp but Mara's was too strong. Mara looked down into her eyes with a deep, burning hatred that Meg could feel.

"This is what happens when you betray your friends, you filthy cocksucker," she sneered. Then Mara easily hoisted her upward onto her shoulder and carried her off to the distance. As the hook approached, Meg considered idly whether or not Mara would actually hook her. She was surprised when Mara deftly threw her up onto the hook, giving her a sinister smile before running off to search for the next person.

Meg looked around, surprisingly calm for the situation. This was nothing new, after all. Just a new killer. But she was interested to see the way this turn of events had changed her friend. Last time she was in the trial with Mara, she did not have those same glowing eyes, or the same rage that seemed to be burning within her now. It was a strong rage that was very reminiscent of Myers'. It shook her to the core; although it didn't initially scare her, it did make her skin crawl knowing she was at the top of Mara's brand new kill list. What did she mean by betray, anyway? Wasn't it Mara who betrayed them when she crossed over to the killer's side?

Meg was broken from her reverie when Jake ran up to her, lifting her off the hook. They both sprinted away quickly and were relieved to see the woman chasing someone else near the other side of the map. And so, they crouched down at the killer's shack, Jake taking the time to wrap up Meg's wounds.

"Jake," Meg began somewhat cautiously. "Do you think I'm in the wrong for hating Mara now? For not wanting to help her?"

Her eyes glanced up nervously to Jake's. He wasn't looking at her, but was looking at the work he was making with his hands. "Yes," he said sternly.

The words of others had never perturbed Meg in the past. But for some reason, Jake's icy _yes_ made her stomach drop. She didn't like to be in the wrong, but when she was actually caught up on the wrong side, she didn't tend to care. Until this time.

"Why?" she responded back to the man.

"Well, Meg," he sighed as he finished healing her and gestured for her to walk with him tentatively from the killer shack. "I think it's wrong because Mara loved you. As a friend. She looked after you and helped you just like she did all of us. And how do you repay her? You call her a bitch and leave her to be alone with some monster, just after she literally begged you to help her. As a killer." He paused a moment to look over at the girl who wore a face of guilt as she walked next to him. "Didn't it mean anything to you that she was actually crying in your face?" His eyebrows knotted together and his mouth drew up into an expression of disgust. "And all you did was attack her. Leave her to face Michael on her own. You know, we survivors know we're going to wake back up next to a warm, cozy campfire after every trial. We have time to regroup with our friends, crack jokes and talk about things. But we don't know what the killers experience out there. She could be being tortured for all we know. She's living with a shit ton of monsters for fuck's sake! Now think about Mara and how much she always cared about you. How she cheered you up when you were down. How many times she took hits for you. Died for you. And tell me if you think she really deserves that, Meg."

Meg looked down in defeat as Jake's cold words throttled her insides. She always knew him to be a soft spoken man who would put his foot down when needed. But she never imagined words like these to be directed at her. She glanced up to see Jake stalking off in another direction. He shook his head slightly and she knew he was just replaying that conversation in his head, too upset to speak to her anymore. And she continued to feel badly still. He was right. She had been a complete bitch to a woman who didn't deserve it. But within Meg's heart, as she remembered her old friend Mara, she simply could not bring herself to terms with believing that woman was still in there somewhere. She wasn't. Couldn't be. That woman was just gone. Jake needs to see that.

Meg trotted up to a generator to see Jake and David just getting it started. Quietly she settled down between them, her hands moving this way and that about the chilly parts and conduits. She sighed deeply before glancing at Jake and continuing their conversation from before, paying no mind to the fact that David was there to hear it now.

"Jake, I need you to understand something," she began. "This whole thing with Mara getting turned into a killer has never happened before. None of us have experienced this and no one really knows what the hell is going on. I need you to understand that I do not believe that the real Mara is left inside that dead body." She saw Jake's expression fall slightly at the notion. "I think she's now a full blown killer. I don't think there's anything we can do about that. So please don't hate me for the way I feel and how I treated her. I treated her like the killer she is."

Jake's expression was set in one of frustration. _You're just a selfish little girl,_ he thought to himself. He resolved to say nothing, gritting his teeth tightly and fixing his eyes upon the metallic pieces in his hands.

David spoke up over the sounds of the generator that seemed to be about halfway done now. "I've got an idea." Jake and Meg glanced up at him with surprised looks on their faces. "Wanna see if we can turn her back to survivor? I mean, why not? What do we have to lose?"

He looked between his teammates' faces. Meg, looking as if she had just been chosen for an awful job she wouldn't want to do. And Jake, wearing an expression of excitement and hope. He was renewed by the fact that another survivor had hope in bringing her back.

"Yes!" Jake responded, raising his voice to be heard over the generator. "I was thinking the same thing!"

The generator burst to life between them and Meg jumped up and sprinted away. _To hell with her,_ Jake thought to himself as she trotted off. David still stood next to him and was looking at him with eyes that held a deep understanding.

"I hated to see her change too," he said, reaching out a hand to Jake's shoulder. "She's a good lady. We can't just let her turn into a monster."

ooooo 

Meg's feet carried her swiftly along through the dreary atmosphere of this map. Only two generators to go, and she had been the only one hooked so far, although she had seen a bleeding Nea trampling along earlier. She was feeling quite confident knowing that Mara didn't quite know how to pressure the survivors yet, and she took some extra time to cleanse totems and search chests. Finally she found a map and made her way to one of the remaining generators.

That is, until her skin began to prickle and that familiar chill ran up her spine.

Mara was coming.

She jumped into action, having never been one to sneak behind rocks or barrels. She liked to run, and she ran well. So she took off through the landscape and glanced over her shoulder to see that the woman was indeed chasing her.

 _Damn, she's fast!_ Meg thought to herself as she vaulted herself through a window, and screamed aloud as a short blade slashed across her back. She sprinted forward even more quickly for a few seconds, hiding behind a large rock and attempting to patch herself up quickly before Mara realized where she went. But Mara's tracking abilities were strong and the woman came around the other side of the rock before Meg even had a chance to stop the bleeding. She sprinted forward again but was too late, and came crashing to the ground as the blade slashed her body once again.

ooooo 

The plan had been made quickly and easily, without much discussion. The two men had sat in the corner of the map, taking only a few minutes to discuss their plans.

"We don't know just how strong she is," Jake noted, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of excitement and worry.

"That's right," David replied. "But we do know that she's brand new. Probably doesn't even know her true powers yet and might not even know how to use the basic ones. I'm betting that all she knows to do right now is to cut people and pick them up."

"I hope you're right…" Jake said, looking out past David's shoulder to see the woman chasing through an open area in the distance. "Look, she's just about to get Meg. Alright, who gets the arms and who gets the legs?"

David glanced back over his shoulder as well before returning his attention to Jake. "Women are stronger in the legs, so I think I should get her legs." A look flashed over Jake's face and David stuttered. "I mean, uh, no offense or anything, it's just, uh…"

Jake laughed casually when David's cheeks burned slightly red. "No problem, man. That's a good idea, you're definitely a beefy guy.

David chuckled softly at Jake's remark before they both stood and made their way to the ensuing chase taking place a few meters away from them.

"Now!" Jake hissed and jumped out from behind a tree. Flashlight in hand, he switched it on and shone it brightly in Mara's eyes. Caught off guard, she hissed through her blindness and dropped Meg to the ground in an attempt to shield her eyes. Meg ran off to the side, silently thanking Jake for saving her.

Then, David jumped out from behind the same rock and took off toward Mara, Jake not too far behind him.

The two sprinted up to the woman quickly. _Sorry sweetheart!_ David thought to himself as he tore toward her, jumping off his feet and lunging at her. His arms wrapped around her waist and the two flew to the ground. Mara gasped as the wind was knocked out of her, her vision still recovering from the strong beam of the flashlight. She attempted to scramble back up to her feet but David's arms were wrapped tightly around her legs. She used her hands in an attempt to wrestle him off her, but he was too strong. She slashed forward as her eyes were regaining vision, but her arms only flailed for a moment before they were caught within yet another grasp and drawn back behind her.

"Meg!" she heard a man yell. "Get the fuck over here and help us!"

David looked up and his eyes met the killer's. An intense fear and dread suddenly began taking over his heart as she glared down at him intimidatingly. Never before had the gaze of someone touched him so deep within himself. He looked away quickly having been made severely uncomfortable by the feeling of her probing gaze that made the hairs at the back of his neck stand up straight.

This is where their plan ended. Neither had any ideas as to what they would do now… they had just hoped something good would happen.

Meg sauntered up to the trio and gazed down amusedly at the scene before her. She nearly laughed aloud and wished she could somehow take a picture of the instance; David wrapping himself fearfully around the killer's legs, Jake appearing just as frightened and desperate as he clasped her arms together behind her.

All amusement left her face when she finally got close enough and that permeating feeling of a nearby killer erupted within her, and she fought against that strong fight-or-flight response that always kicks in. She settled down next to the three, narrowly avoiding Mara's bloodthirsty gaze. "What the hell do you guys want me to do?"

ooo 

Bleary darkness. Ominous, demonic voices floating about here and there. A deep feeling of innate, primal maliciousness hanging in the air. All of these things surrounding Michael as he rested silently within the Entity's realm.

Until a new feeling erupted deep within him. And odd feeling, one he hadn't experienced before.

Something was wrong. He could feel it.

That hook within him. Shivering. Building up inertia as it spun back and forth worryingly. Never before had he felt anxiety, but now he understood what it was. Something's wrong. Very wrong.

A vision flashed over his eyes.

Mara, on the ground. On her back. Glowing eyes gazing sleepily up at the sky. Her arms pinned above her head. Legs pinned to the ground.

Then her mouth opens and a weak sigh escapes her lips. Color flashes through her eyes; that blue attempting to break its way through.

He realized what was happening. The reverie crashed around him like an old building crumbling to the ground. Fury bubbled up within him.

 **Get your hands off her.**


	10. Chapter 10

"It's working!" Jake shouted excitedly as he held his hands down over Mara's wrists. She wasn't fighting much anymore, but he didn't consider for a second that there wasn't any fight left.

David nodded at her feet as Meg crouched above the killer laid on the ground before her. Her hands shook with fear as she drew invisible symbols upon the skin of Mara's stomach that came to her instinctively. She never considered herself a spiritual person but within tense situations such as this one, she was able to call forth that intuition and put it to use. And so, her hands worked without thought as Meg closed her eyes with focus and she attempted to draw out that evil which now lay awake within Mara.

Then, every survivor stopped for a moment, eyes flying wide as an omnipresent voice broke out into their minds.

 **Get your hands off her.**

They looked at each other with looks full of questions and nervousness.

David was the first to speak up. "Did you guys hear that?"

Jake and Meg nodded their heads in unison before exchanging concerned looks and continuing their work.

Within moments Mara's eyes continued to waft blearily this way and that. Subconsciously she could feel the evil slowly snaking its way up to the forefront of her body. It was an intense feeling, like a snake making its way up through her insides. Then the snake started moving faster, excitedly. No longer attempting to hide itself within the crevices of her body, it drew itself up within her and danced, bringing itself to life once again. Mara's body rose off the ground slightly as she was being physically affected by the evil moving about within her.

"What the hell is going on?" Meg questioned, her voice shaking.

The only answer was a sudden boom that ripped through the air, reminiscent of a jet plane flashing by at immense speeds overhead. Meg screamed aloud and all three survivors jumped, startled while Mara remained in a daze upon the ground. "What the fuck?!" Meg yelled. The ground seemed to shake beneath them for a moment.

" _Uhhhh, uhhhhhh,_ " Mara cooed unconsciously beneath them.

"I can't tell if this is working," Jake cried above her, his eyes falling pleadingly to David. But David didn't know what was going on either.

Until he saw the presence that loomed within the shadows, not too far away.

He froze for a moment, that fear picking itself up in the back of his mind again. His mouth fell open and was caught in a short trance. The woman below him began writhing on the ground, nearly knocking him off of her. Having noticed David's staring, Jake and Meg glanced back behind them.

There he was. Watching them as they desecrated his beautiful creation. Their putrid fingers clasping at her porcelain skin. He hated that. They shouldn't be touching her. Shouldn't be forcing her to the ground. But there they were, attempting to change that which he had worked so hard on. That which he had discovered a love for, deep within his tainted heart. That which he was not willing to lose.

He'd slaughter every single one of them multiple times before they ever succeeded in changing her.

He stepped forward, his calm appearance exuding nothing but confidence and intimidation.

Meg was the first to run. She sprinted off and didn't look back. Then went Jake. Then David. This fight was no longer Mara's as she laid on the ground helplessly stuck in a trance, enveloped in a battle of good and evil. She laid there the entire time, unaware of the screams that erupted around her. Blood curdling screams of pain and desperation. One by one, her friends thrown to hooks to be sacrificed to the Entity by the hands of her domineering lover.

Every survivor suffered that day at the enraged hands of Michael Myers.

Finally he returned, coated with heaps of her late teammates' blood. Through his bloody mask he looked down at the girl who still laid on the ground, some form of worry taking the place of the exhilaration of chasing his prey.

He stooped down next to her, his forefinger brushing lightly across her jawline. Her eyes were halfway open, flickering back and forth between that unnatural red and beautiful blue. He hated what he was seeing, her soul floundering deep within herself in an attempt to set itself straight. He needed to take her back now or she could be lost to this eternal fight forever.

He scooped her up from the ground, holding her in his arms bridal style and her head fell to rest comfortably on his chest. Once again, purity was clasped within the arms of evil.

***** 

Mara's brain wafted about tiredly, moving about in her head like water in a bottle being sloshed around. It made her dizzy and the first thing she was conscious of was leaning over to vomit absolutely nothing from her insides. She gagged and dry heaved for a moment before laying back down, a hand rising to her forehead and her eyes coming gently open.

Her vision was met with the dark depths of the Entity's realm. Her head pounded and her body felt weak. She groaned quietly and sat up, blinking the sleep from her eyes.

"She's awake," a voice came from somewhere within the room. Mara immediately recognized it to be the Entity and turned around to see the creature and Michael a few feet away.

Mara's mind was still fuzzy from whatever had just occurred. All she could remember was being with Michael, seeking comfort from him, and a rage that had suddenly burst within her. After that, nothing.

"Mara," the Entity called, demanding her attention. She looked over to it with a look of distrust.

"What do you want?" she responded coldly.

"Your second trial," it sneered. "Failed. Again." Its ugly, monstrous eyes shot over to Michael for a moment. "And for some reason, he seems to think you belong here. ...Shame."

The Entity's eyes fell upon Mara once again and she shook visibly. She could tell the Entity did not like her a single bit.

"I don't give second chances and I don't give third chances either," the monster continued. "So we'll just call this… a _deal,_ shall we? Sacrifice the next four survivors or you will be disposed of."

Mara's breath caught in her throat. The Entity was being completely serious. "Entity!" she protested. "I didn't even know what was going on!"

The Entity cackled a laugh void of humor. "You must not be a killer then."

Before she could say anything else, Michael stepped forward, his hands finding her shoulders in an attempt to usher her out of the room. She attempted to step around him and continue speaking to the Entity, but when she glanced over his side, the creature was gone. She looked up at Michael now who was still ushering her from the room. He grasped her shoulders more roughly and forcefully turned her away from him, his hand at the middle of her back to guide her.

They moved in silence through this dreary area the killers lived in. Mara's skin crawled when they brushed past the Nurse, who sat creepily in a corner doing nothing but watching. She bristled when she spotted the Legion's crew and slowed down in fear, almost desperately turning to run away; in response, Michael's arm wrapped around her shoulder, pulling her into him, and they continued forward. Mara's face was bent away from them but Michael could see Frank and Joe bowing their heads away as well, although not from Mara, but from him.

Finally Michael guided her into a small, dark room that looked somewhat like an old-fashioned living room. Two creaky wooden chairs sat atop a dirty round carpet with a small tea table that had a little candle lit upon it. Michael continued to usher Mara through the room, settling her down in one of the old chairs before taking a seat himself, facing her.

 _Well this is a bit odd,_ she thought to herself.

She could tell by Michael's demeanor that he needed to tell her something. From what she had always known about Michael Myers, he had supposedly never spoken a word. And yet somehow he had a way to communicate with her, to infiltrate the boundaries of her mind and insert himself there. It was disturbing and creepy but also tantalizing to her; just another example as to how they were so intricately connected.

And so she waited, her interest piqued by Michael's body language that she had never been able to examine before, because he never did much besides stay quiet, stare, or physically force anyone to do his bidding. She smirked slightly seeing a little bit of human bleeding through that monstrous exterior as he was bent forward with his elbows on his knees, hands clasped together as his mind worked to form the words he needed to say.

 **We have to kill the Entity.**

That smooth, deep voice that she loved so much. If it had touched her ears, she'd have closed her eyes and prayed that he keep talking. But it emanated from within her, reverberating within her body and her soul, tickling her fancy so much the words he spoke took a moment to register within her.

 _Snap!_ She startled and opened her eyes, her heart flopping when she saw Myers was staring directly at her. Every ounce of his being permeated her so. It was scary.

 **Pay attention.**

She nodded obediently, finally realizing the seriousness of his words. She glanced over her shoulder and lowered her voice to a whisper. "Kill the Entity?"

Michael's head nodded forward once ever so slightly.

She stared at him for a moment, dumbfounded. "But that's… not possible?"

 **It might be.**

Mara sat back for a moment, her brow furrowing in thought. Michael told her everything he knew about the Entity; how it had made a deal with some creature even bigger than itself which brought about this realm that they resided in. How this creature was able to reach down into different realms and realities, pulling out the evillest of creatures and dumping them in this pathetic world. That each and every killer Mara had interacted with was a victim of kidnapping, now bound by shackles they couldn't see and couldn't understand. And if you can't find where the problem lies, how are you going to fix the problem?

"That's it!" Mara jumped up suddenly. She bounced up and down in excitement for a moment and Michael stood up with her. She ran to him, grasping his arms and looking gleefully up at his face. "Michael, I figured it out! It has to do with the fact that you can come into my trials with me if I'm failing. Isn't this because the Entity basically assigned you as my caretaker, or is it because of our bond with each other?"

 **That is due to my connection to you.** That hook that resided within them both. And it was due to his own personal power that he was able to sense that she was in trouble. It was also due to his personal strength and power that he was able to rip through these realities that existed within the _Dead by Daylight_ realm, granting him the ability to tear into any trial currently taking place. But he never had a reason to travel to these worlds unless she was in them.

"Okay, remember what you said about the Entity secretly being a weak, but lucky creature. And that it's only a powerful being so long as it resides within this realm we're in now." Her eyes were wide and gleaming with excitement. She knew Michael would be pleased if her idea turned out to be plausible. "So what if instead of you coming to save me... what if the Entity had to save the day?"

Michael looked at her for a moment, the pieces of her statement coming together slowly in his brain. The hows, the whens, the what ifs. Then his hand came forward and ruffled itself in her hair. She yelped in surprise as a ticklish feeling of joy rang through her at his unusual display of contentment; she could see that he was happy with her ideas.

He came forward and she grinned. She threw her arms around his shoulders and allowed him to pick her up, wrapping her in a tight embrace, actually twirling her through the air before settling back down into the creaky chair, its wooden legs groaning beneath the weight of the two of them.

*** 

Quiet sobs echoed deep into a lonely part of the forest. Meg sat on the ground, back pressed against a tree, her head rested against her knees that were pulled up to her chest. Tears streamed down her cheeks, falling off her chin and seeping into her clothing. She trembled and shook in anguish. Her arms wrapped even tighter around her legs as she cried an ugly, defeated cry.

She didn't stop when she heard footsteps crunching up next to her. She couldn't care anymore. That tough exterior she always held onto had finally come crumbling down, and it didn't matter to her anymore whether someone saw her cry.

She continued sobbing as whoever had come up settled down beside her. The person's leg pressed lightly against her own and an arm came down around her shoulders, pulling her close and forcing her to lose her balance. Her hand came down on the person's leg to steady herself.

She looked up into David's face which was contorted into an expression of worry and sorrow. All three of them had felt this way since that last match, although David was doing the best at holding himself together. Even Jake himself had already experienced this same fit of tearful anguish, although he'd hidden much farther away from the others. Far enough that they couldn't hear his screams of pure rage and defeat. Curses and yells that were meant just for Michael. Each and every one of them had been scarred. No person liked the feeling of a complete lack of control. To be abused and taken advantage of. To be physically tortured and played with. That's exactly how Michael had made all of them feel. Like helpless rats scurrying around a cage, desperate for an escape or a swift death, neither of which they were granted. To Michael, they were merely toys to be played with and disposed of when he was done. He made sure they all realized that as a deep, personal rage had been reawakened within him at the sight of what they had done to Mara, and he punished them accordingly.

For the three of them, this feeling was everything. All the other survivors could sense that something was wrong; something unusually bad had happened. The survivor realm was now cloaked with the same atmosphere that plagues hospital rooms, graveyards, and crime scenes: that innate and primal understanding that something tragic and disturbing had occurred afflicted every single one of them. Even the Entity didn't have this power over the survivors; they regarded the Entity with the same mindset of the killers: they would obey it, but not respect it.

But Michael? He would get the respect he demanded. Every time.

David held Meg close to him, his arm still tightly wrapped around her shoulder. Her face was buried within his neck and he could feel his clothing becoming wet with her tears. He changed his position now, his other arm drawing up beneath her knees and pulling her easily into his lap as she continued to sob. From the outside, it might have seemed as if this was some sort of a romantic affair, but it was not; just one person providing comfort to another who really, really needed it.


End file.
